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EARLY  CHRONICLERS  OF  EUROPE. 


ENGLAND. 


BY 

JAMES   GAIRDNER, 

AUTHOR  OF  "the  LIFE  AND  REIGN  OF  RICHARD   III. 
"  THE  HOUSES  OF  LANCASTER  AND  YORK,"  ETC. 


PUBLISHED   UNDER  THE  DIRECTION  OF  THE  COMMITl'EE 

OF  GENERAL  LITERATURE  AND   EDUCATION   APPOINTED   BY  THE 

SOCIETV  FOR  PROMOTING  CHRISTIAN    KNOWLEDGE. 


LONDON: 

SOCIETY  FOR   PROMOTING  CHRISTIAN   KNOWLEDGE, 
NORTHUMBERLAND  AVENUE.  CHARING  CROSS,  W.C. ; 

43,   QUEEN   VICTORIA  STREET,   E.C.  ; 
26,    ST.    GEORGE'S   PLACE,    HYDE   PARK   CORNER,   S.W. 

BRIGHTON:  135,  north  street. 
New  York  :    E.  &  J.  B.  YOUNG  AND   CO. 


PREFACE. 


This  volume  is  one  of  a  series  intended  to 
popularise  the  sources  of  mediaeval  history,  and 
is  specially  devoted  to  the  chronicles  of  our  own 
country.  With  such  an  object  it  is  neither  possible 
nor  desirable  to  give  an  exhaustive  account  of  all 
our  early  historians  ;  but  a  selection  has  been  made 
of  those  writers  whose  style  is  most  characteristic 
and  whose  works  are  best  adapted  for  quotation. 
It  is  for  these  qualities  rather  than  for  their  intrinsic 
value  as  original  authorities  that  occasionally  some 
of  the  minor  chronicles  have  been  treated  at  con- 
siderable length,  while  greater  and  more  important 
works  have  been  barely  mentioned  or  have  even 
been  passed  over  in  silence.  No  attempt,  in  fact, 
has  been  made  to  preserve  proportion  as  between 
one  writer  and  another  ;  but  it  is  hoped  that  some 
general  idea  both  of  the  wealth  of  mediaeval 
writings  illustrative  of  English  history  and  of  their 


261040 


iv  preface. 

great  variety  of  character  may  be  obtained  from  a 
perusal  of  these  pages. 

It  is  almost  needless  to  say  that*  this  work  does 
not  profess  to  be  the  fruit  of  great  original  research. 
In  such  a  large  field  it  is  impossible  not  to  be 
guided  to  a  very  considerable  extent  by  the  eyes  of 
others ;  and  in  many  instances  it  will  be  seen  that 
the  author  has  acknowledged  his  obligations  in  the 
text.  No  mention,  however,  has  been  made  of  one 
modern  writer  to  whose  work  he  has  been  indebted 
in  some  portion  of  Chapter  III. ;  and  he  takes  this 
opportunity  of  referring  to  Mr.  Morison's  valuable 
Life  and  Times  of  St.  Bernard. 

A  large  number  of  the  old  English  chronicles 
have  in  our  day  been  rendered  very  accessible  in 
the  series  of  cheap  English  translations  published 
by  Bohn.  These  versions  are  of  unequal  merit ; 
but  their  publication  is  certainly  a  great  boon  to 
that  reading  public  who  desire  to  be  made  better 
acquainted  with  the  chronicles  of  the  Middle  Ages. 
The  extracts  in  the  present  volume  are  occasionally 
derived  from  Bohn's  translations ;  but  in  many 
cases  the  author  has  thought  it  better  to  supply 
a  translation  of  his  own. 


CONTENTS. 

CHAPTER  I. 

OUR  EARLIEST  HISTORIANS. 

PAGE 

Gildas  on  the  destruction  of  Britain — Bede's  account  of  the 
conversion  of  England  to  Christianity — Pope  Gregory  and 
the  English  slaves  at  Rome — King  Edwin's  consultation 
with  his  councillors  about  embracing  Christianity — Paulinus 
made  Bishop  of  York  —King  Edwin's  good  government — 
Abbey  of  Whitby — Story  of  Csedmon — Bede's  other 
writings — Account  of  his  death — Supernatural  stories  in 
Bede — ^Asser's  Life  of  Alfred  the  Great — Questions  about 
the  text — Interpolations — The  story  of  Alfred  and  the 
cakes — How  Alfred  learned  to  read — How  he  divided 
his  time i 

CHAPTER  11. 

RECORDS  OF  THE  MONKS. 

T\i.t  Anglo-Saxon  Chronicle — Influence  of  the  Norman  Conquest 
— Chronicle  of  Battle  Abbey  —  How  monasteries  fostered 
literature  and  civilization — Plorence  of  Worcester — Ead- 


vi  ©entente. 


PAGE 


jner — His  account  of  St  Anselm — ^William  of  Malmesbury 
— Extracts  touching  the  effects  of  the  Conquest — The  First 
Crusade — Robert  of  Normandy  and  Henry  I. — The  Gesta 
Stephani — Early  report  of  a  debate  in  the  king's  council — 
Extract  touching  Bristol  and  Bath — The  Empress  Maud — 
Henry  of  Huntingdon — Ordericus  Vitalis  ....       49 


CHAPTER  III. 

NEW  MONASTIC  ORDERS — THE  CRUSADES. 

Religious  revival  in  Europe — New  orders  of  monks  practising 
austerity — The  Cluniacs — Carthusians —  Cistercians — St. 
Bernard — His  love  of  nature— Richard  of  Devizes — 
Massacre  of  the  Jews  at  Richard  I.  's  coronation — Alleged 
crucifixion  of  a  boy  by  the  Jews  of  Winchester — Crusade 
of  Richard  I.,  and  state  of  the  kingdom  in  his  absence — 
Expulsion  of  the  monks  of  Coventry  by  Bishop  Hugh  de 
Nonant — Joceline  of  Brakeland's  account  of  the  monastery 
of  St.  Edmundsbuiy  under  Abbot  Sampson — Description 
of  the  abbot — Disputes  between  the  monastery  and  the 
burgesses — Privileges  claimed  against  the  archbishop — 
Abbot  Sampson's  journey  to  Rome — He  holds  his  own 
against  the  king — Customs  and  privileges  of  the  monastery 
— Dispute  with  the  monks  of  Ely 109 

CHAPTER  IV. 

IMAGINATIVE  AND  SOBER    HISTORY — ^WELSH  AND 
NORTHERN   WRITERS. 

Robert  of  Gloucester's  patronage  of  literature — Geoffrey  of 
Monmouth's  History  of  the  Kings  of  Britain — Its  popularity 
— Its  apocryphal  character  and  extraordinary  legends — 
Their  acceptance  as  history — Clergymen  more  witty  than 
monks — "William  of  Newburgh  denounces  Geoffrey's  Hit' 
/<7rj/~Giraldus  Cambrensis  also— Credulity  of  Giraldus — 
His  account  of  his  birth-place — His  family  and  personal 
history— His   election   to  St    David's — Goes  to  Ireland 


©entente.  vii 


with  Prince  John — Kis  Topographia  Hibemue—'Rvs,  Vatici- 
tied  History  of  the  Conqtiest  of  Ireland. — Description  of 
Henry  II. — Itmerary  through  Wales— Character  of  the 
North  of  England  historians — Simeon  of  Durham — Ailred 
of  Rievaulx— William  of  Newburgh— Roger  of  Hoveden — 
Chronicle  of  Mdrose—^z\X.tx  Hemingburgh— The  Chro- 
nicle of  Lanercost      ,        , i-c 


CHAPTER  V. 

RECORDS  OF  THE   FRIARS. 

Actual  results  of  the  Crusades  injurious  to  Christian  faith  and 
morals — St.  Dominic  and  the  Preaching  Friars — The 
Albigenses — St.  Francis — ^The  Eastern  leprosy — Devotion 
of  the  Franciscans — Thomas  of  Eccleston's  account  of  their 
settlement  in  England — ^Anecdotes —Aquinas  and  the 
Schoolmen — Trivet's  Annales — Stubbs's  Archbishops  of 
York — Franciscan  Schoolmen — Roger  Bacon,  Scotus, 
Occam •         •        •        .     199 


CHAPTER  VI. 


MONASTIC  CHRONICLES. 

Diminution  in  the  number  of  monastic  chronicles— Com- 
pensated at  first  by  minuteness  of  detail — Position  of  St 
Alban's  as  a  centre  of  news — First  formation  of  the  scrip- 
torium at  St.  Alban's — Roger  of  Wendover — Plan  of  his 
chronicle — His  account  of  the  papal  interdict — Matthew 
Paris — His  character  as  an  historian — Extracts  from  his 
chronicle — William  Rishanger  —  Trivet's  account  of 
Edward  I.  transcribed  by  him — Other  continuators  of 
Matthew  Paris — ^Thomas  Walsingham — His  account  of 
Wat  Tyler's  rebellion— Whethamstede's  register— End 
ol  the  age  of  monastic  chronicles — Higden's  Polychronicon 
— Trevisa — Caxton  .•••••••     233 


viii  ©ontntt^. 


CHAPTER  VII. 

RECORDS   OF  THE   CITY". 

PAGF 

The  Uber  de  Antiquis  Legibus — French  Chronicle  of  London — 
The  Liber  Aldus — The  Chronicle  of  London — Gregory's 
Chronicle — Account  of  Jack  Cade's  rebellion — Adventures 
of  Margaret  of  Anjou — The  Mayor  of  BrisioPs  Kalendcr — 
Fabyan's  Concordance  of  Histories — More's  History  of 
Richard  III. — Extract — Shakespeare  dramatized  More's 
works — Hardyn^s  Chronicle—Hairs  Chronicle — Polyd.ore 
Vergil's  History — Grafton's  historical  works — ^John  Stow — 
His  Summary^  his  Chronicle^  and  his  Survey  of  London — 
Ireland — Holinsheds  Chronicle^i^ovtccs  6f  Sliakespeare's 
historical  plays         .         •         •        •     .    .        •        •         •    284 


M 

1 

H 

1^^^^^ 

TUt^^i 

EARLY  CHRONICLERS  OF  EUROPE. 


ENGLAND. 


CHAPTER  I. 


OUR    EARLIEST    HISTORIANS. 

Gildas  on  the  destruction  of  Britain — Bede's  account  of  the  conver- 
sion of  England  to  Christianity — Pope  Gregory  and  the  English 
slaves  at  Rome — King  Edwin's  consultation  with  his  councillors 
about  embracing  Christianity — Paulinus  made  Bishop  of  York — 
King  Edwin's  good  government — Abbey  of  Whitby — Story  of 
Caedmon — Bede's  other  writings — Account  of  his  death — Super- 
natural stories  in  Bede — Asser's  Lz/e  of  Alfred  the  Great — Ques- 
tions about  the  text — Interpolations — The  Story  of  Alfred  and  the 
cakes — How  Alfred  learned  to  read— How  he  divided  his  time. 

After  the  departure  of  the  Romans  from  Britain, 
the  history  of  this  island  is  for  some  time  enveloped 
in  great  obscurity,  which  is  at  the  best  but  faintly 
relieved  by  Welsh  traditions  and  unsatisfactory 
fragments  of  Welsh  poetry.  Left  to  themselves 
the  Britons  manifested  no  native  capacity  for 
ENG.  B 


lEarlg  ©Ibtonfder^  of  lEnglantJ. 


government  and  relapsed  into  comparative  barbar- 
ism. Only  about  a  century  after  the  withdrawal 
of  the  conquerors  do  we  meet  with  a  British  writer 
who  tells  us  anything  about  the  Britons ;  and  the 
picture  he  gives  of  their  decay  and  demoralization 
is  melancholy  in  the  extreme. 

Nor  can  it  be  said  that  even  here  our  scanty 
historical  information  rests  on  a  basis  altogether 
free  from  controversy.  Indeed,  the  doubts  and 
discussions  to  which  the  brief  treatise  of  Gildas  has 
given  rise  are  out  of  all  proportion  to  its  magnitude. 
As  to  the  personality  of  the  writer  it  is  unsatisfac- 
tory to  find  two  ancient  biographies  utterly  incon- 
sistent even  with  regard  to  his  parentage  and  family, 
and  manifestly  full  of  fabulous  matter  throughout. 
In  the  absence  of  better  information  on  this  subject, 
even  his  age  and  nationality  have  been  called  in 
question ;  and  though  his  own  testimony  upon 
these  points,  if  trustworthy,  is  unmistakeable,  one 
daring  critic  suspects  the  work  to  be  a  forgery  of  a 
somewhat  later  time.  Speculations  of  this  kind, 
however,  I  shall  for  my  part  simply  pass  by ;  and 
as  the  work  is,  under  any  circumstances,  anterior  to 
that  of  our  next  historian,  the  Venerable  Bede,  I 
will  endeavour  to  give  the  reader  some  account  of 
its  general  drift. 

The  title  which  it  commonly  bears — Liber  que- 
riihis  de  Excidio  Britannics  (a  Book  of  Complaint 
touching  the  Destruction  of  Britain) — may  not  have 
been  prefixed  by  the  author  himself,  but  indicates, 
nevertheless,  truly  enough   its   general   character. 


©ilt>a0. 


The  work,  as  it  has  come  down  to  us,  is  divided 
into  three  sections,  the  first  of  which  is  called  ''  the 
Preface,"  the  second,  "  the  History,"  and  the  third 
"  the  Epistle."  But  it  is  greatly  questioned  whether 
this  division  is  the  author's  own,  who,  according  to 
his  most  recent  editor,  called  the  whole  simply  an 
Epistle.  In  any  case  it  is  clear  that  "the  History" 
is  only  meant  to  lead  up  to  "  the  Epistle,"  and  that 
the  author's  real  aim  was  not  to  write  a  history  at 
all,  but  to  show  the  fearful  degeneracy  of  the  times, 
and  to  rebuke  the  rulers  of  the  British  nation  for 
the  shameful  perfidy  with  which  they  dishonoured 
their  Christian  profession.  In  the  opening  words 
of "  the  Epistle "  the  general  state  of  matters  is 
described  as  follows  : — 

"  Britain  has  kings,  but  they  are  tyrants  ;  she  has  judges, 
but  impious  ones  ;  often  engaged  in  plunder  and  rapine,  but 
preying  upon  the  innocent ;  avenging  and  protecting,  indeed, 
but  only  robbers  and  criminals.  They  have  an  abundance 
of  wives,  yet  are  they  addicted  to  fornication  and  adulter)' ; 
they  are  ever  ready  to  take  oaths,  and  as  often  perjure  them- 
selves ;  they  make  a  vow  and  almost  immediately  act  falsely  ; 
they  make  war,  but  their  wars  are  against  their  country- 
men, and  are  unjust  ones  ;  they  rigorously  prosecute  thieves 
throughout  the  country,  but  those  who  sit  at  table  with  them 
are  robbers,  and  they  not  only  cherish  but  reward  them  ; 
they  give  alms  plentifully,  but  on  the  other  hand  they  heap 
up  an  immense  mountain  of  crimes  ;  they  sit  on  the  seat  of 
justice,  but  rarely  seek  for  the  rule  of  right  judgment ;  they 
despise  the  innocent  and  the  humble,  but  seize  every  occasion 
of  exalting  to  the  utmost  the  bloody  minded,  the  proud, 
murderers,  the  combined  and  adulterers,  enemies  of  God, 
who  ought  to  be  utterly  destroyed  and  their  names  forgotten." 


lEarlji  Qt])xomtUx^  of  lEnglanU. 


The  turgid  Latin  in  which  all  this  is  set  forth  is 
certainly  not  to  be  commended  as  a  model  of  literary- 
style.  It  is  a  sort  of  decayed  Ciceronianism,  in 
which  a  great  multiplicity  of  hard  words  is  made 
to  do  the  duty  of  a  few  well-ordered  and  weighty 
ones.  But  after  all  the  style  itself  is  only  an  addi- 
tional illustration  of  that  which  is  the  main  subject 
of  the  book — the  general  decay  of  civilization, 
culture,  and  morality,  which  had  ensued  since  the 
Romans  left  the  island.  The  author  is  in  dead 
earnest,  and  uses  a  great  array  of  heavy  words  in 
the  hope  that  some  of  them  may  take  effect  upon 
the  heavy  and  sluggish  intellects  of  a  demoralized 
people.  And  from  this  general  statement  of  the 
case  he  proceeds  to  special  instances,  attacking  the 
different  British  princes  by  name,  for  their  gross 
immoralities,  and  finally  addressing  a  general  warn- 
ing to  them  by  examples  from  Old  Testament 
history,  and  from  the  words  of  the  Prophets. 

Such  was  the  aim  and  object  of  this  work  of 
Gildas  ;  and  to  treat  him  as  an  historian  in  the 
ordinary  sense  of  the  word  is  not  to  do  him  justice. 
He  was  an  historian  only  so  far  as  history  lay  in 
his  path  towards  another  object ;  and  as  an  historian 
he  confesses  that  he  labours  under  very  great  dis- 
advantages. 

"  I  will  endeavour,"  he  says,  "  to  give  an  account  both  of 
those  evils  which  Britain  suffered  in  the  time  of  the  Roman 
emperors  and  of  those  which  she  inflicted  on  other  citizens 
afar  off;  yet,  so  far  as  I  shall  be  able  to  do  it,  it  will  not  be 
so  much  from  the  hterature  of  this  country  or  from  the  memo- 


C&ilDa0. 


rials  of  its  writers  (because,  if  there  ever  were  such,  they  have 
either  been  destroyed  by  the  fires  of  the  enemy,  or  carried  off 
by  the  ships  of  citizens  who  went  into  exile  j,  as  from  a  narra- 
tive [supplied  to  me]  beyond  sea,  which,  being  interrupted  by 
frequent  gaps,  is  not  by  any  means  satisfactory." 

In  fact,  the  information  possessed  by  Gildas  as  to 
what  happened  long  before  his  own  day  was  not 
only  scanty,  but  I  must  add  not  much  to  be  relied 
on.  From  the  analysis  of  the  apparent  sources  of 
the  work  made  by  Sir  Thomas  Hardy,  we  may 
presume  that  the  earlier  part,  at  least,  of  the  narra- 
tive obtained  beyond  sea  consisted  of  fragments  of 
the  writings  of  Eusebius  and  St.  Jerome  relating  to 
Britain,  and  perhaps  of  the  ecclesiastical  history  of 
Sulpicius  Severus.  If  it  extended  much  later  it 
could  not  have  been  very  trustworthy ;  for  the 
notions  of  Gildas,  at  least  as  to  the  order  and  suc- 
cession of  events,  are  exceedingly  confused  and 
inaccurate,  nor  are  they  in  harmony  with  well- 
informed  Greek  and  Roman  writers  as  to  the  events 
themselves.  But  from  the  early  part  of  the  fifth 
century  Greek  and  Roman  writers  tell  us  nothing 
of  the  affairs  of  Britain,  and  Gildas  is  the  original 
authority  used  by  Bede  and  succeeding  writers  as 
the  basis  of  our  early  English  history.*  It  is  he 
who  reports  how  the  Britons,  after  their  abandon- 
ment by  the  Romans,  being  molested  by  the  Picts 
and  Scots,  invoked  again  their  old  conquerors 
and   rulers   to   save    them    from    the    barbarians, 

*  See  Sir  T.  Hardy's  remarks  in  his  Descriptive  Catalogue  of 
Materials  relating  to  the  History  of  Great  Britain  and  Ireland, 
vol.  i.  pp.  136,  137. 


fetlg  CTj^ronicto  of  lEnglanD. 


and  wrote  to  Aetius  the  Consul  the  desponding 
appeal,  headed  "the  groans  of  the  Britons." 
The  reader  is  doubtless  familiar  with  the  words  of 
that  letter  as  translated  by  Hume: — "The  bar- 
barians, on  the  one  hand,  chase  us  into  the  sea ; 
the  sea,  on  the  other,  throws  us  back  on  the  bar- 
barians ;  and  we  have  only  the  hard  choice  left  us 
of  perishing  by  the  sword,  or  by  the  waves."  It 
is  Gildas,  also,  who  reports  how,  when  the  Romans 
could  no  longer  assist  the  islanders,  the  latter  un- 
wisely met  the  difficulty  by  calling  in  "  the  fierce 
and  impious  Saxons — a  race  hateful  both  to  God 
and  man,  to  repel  the  invasions  of  the  northern 
nations."  On  the  extreme  impolicy  and  wicked- 
ness of  this  step  our  author  makes  severe  reflec- 
tions. "  Nothing,"  he  says,  "  was  ever  so  pernicious 
to  our  country."  Its  immediate  result  is  described 
as  follows  : — "  Then  a  litter  of  whelps  bursting 
forth  from  the  lair  of  the  barbaric  lioness  in  three 
keels  as  they  call  them  in  their  language,  or  long 
ships  as  we  should  say  in  ours,  with  their  sails 
wafted  by  the  wind,  and  with  omens  and  prophecies 
favourable,  by  which  it  was  foretold  that  they 
should  occupy  the  country  to  which  they  were  sail- 
ing three  hundred  years,  and  half  of  that  time,  a 
hundred  and  fifty  years,  should  plunder  and  despoil 
the  same."  They  landed  on  the  eastern  side  of  the 
island  as  allies  of  the  southern  natives ;  but  having 
once  obtained  a  footing  they  strengthened  them- 
selves by  fomenting  the  internal  dissensions  of  the 
-♦slanders.      The   author  goes  on  to  state,  though 


GilDa0. 


in  obscure  and  turgid  language,  that  commotions 
spread  from  sea  to  sea,  even  to  the  Western  ocean, 
which  he  regards  as  the  vengeance  of  the  Almighty 
on  the  former  sins  of  the  inhabitants.  But  the  pe- 
culiar horror  of  these  events  was  the  overthrow  of 
Christianity  and  civilization,  recalling  the  words  of 
the  Psalmist,  "  O  God,  the  heathen  are  come  into 
Thine  inheritance  ;  Thy  holy  temple  have  they 
defiled."*  "  They  have  cast  fire  into  Thy  sanc- 
tuary ;  they  have  defiled  the  dwelling-place  of  Thy 
name."  t 

Then  following  up  this  figure  of  speech  in  a 
passage  which  is  very  obscure,  but  which  has  been 
translated  as  follows,  he  goes  on  to  say — 

"  So  that  all  the  columns  were  levelled  with  the  ground  by 
the  frequent  strokes  of  the  battering  ram,  all  the  husbandmen 
routed,  together  with  their  bishops,  priests,  and  people,  whilst 
the  sword  gleamed  and  the  flames  crackled  around  them 
on  every  side.  Lamentable  to  behold,  in  the  midst  of  the 
streets  lay  the  tops  of  lofty  towers,  tumbled  to  the  ground, 
stones  of  high  walls,  holy  altars,  fragments  of  human  bodies 
covered  with  livid  clots  of  coagulated  blood,  looking  as  if 
they  had  been  squeezed  together  in  a  press,  and  with  no 
chance  of  being  buried  save  in  the  ruins  of  the  houses,  or  in 
the  ravening  bellies  of  wild  beasts  and  birds  ;  with  reverence 
be  it  spoken  for  their  blessed  souls,  if,  indeed,  there  were 
many  found  who  were  carried  at  that  time  into  the  high 
heaven  by  the  holy  angels.  So  entirely  had  the  vintage, 
once  so  fine,  degenerated  and  become  bitter,  that  in  the 
words  of  the  prophet  there  was  hardly  a  grape  or  ear  of  com 
to  be  seen  where  the  husbandman  had  turned  his  back." 

It  is  added  that   "of  the  miserable   remnant," 

*  Ps.  Ixxix.  I.  t  Ps.  Ixxiv.  7. 


8  lEarls  CDj^ronklcr^  of  lEnglant). 

some  were  taken  in  the  mountains  and  murdered 
with  great  slaughter  ;  others,  oppressed  by  hunger, 
gave  themselves  up  as  slaves,  even  at  the  risk  of 
being  slain  on  the  spot ;  others  escaped  beyond 
sea ;  while  others  succeeded  in  preserving  their 
lives,  though  in  constant  fear  and  danger,  among 
the  mountains,  precipices,  and  forests.  Nevertheless, 
after  a  time,  the  islanders  took  arms  under  the 
Roman  General  Ambrosius  Aurelianus,  who  alone 
of  all  that  nation,  it  is  said,  "was  by  chance  left 
alive  in  the  confusion  of  that  troubled  period,"  and 
obtained  some  advantage  over  their  persecutors. 
The  war  continued  then  for  some  time  with  varied 
success,  till  forty-four  years  after  the  landing  of  the 
Saxons  the  islanders  gained  a  decided  victory  at 
the  battle  of  Mount  Badon,  which  was  followed  by 
some  other  successes.  It  was  at  that  time,  Gildas 
tells  us,  that  he  himself  was  born.  Yet  even  to  the 
time  at  which  he  wrote  the  cities  were  not  inhabited 
as  before  ;  and  though  the  foreign  foe  had  ceased 
to  give  trouble  civil  wars  still  continued.  It  was 
true  the  remembrance  of  that  horrible  desolation 
and  of  their  unexpected  deliverance  exercised  for 
a  time  a  beneficial  influence  upon  kings,  magis- 
trates, and  people,  who  with  their  priests  and  clergy 
led  orderly  and  decent  lives.  But  after  that  gene- 
ration had  passed  away,  the  islanders,  forgetting 
everything  but  their  present  prosperity,  abandoned 
truth  and  justice  and  relapsed  into  every  kind  of 
wickedness,  all  but  a  very  small  company  ;  so  few, 
says  the  writer,  that  our  holy  mother  Church  could 


ffiilt)a0. 


hardly  see  them  reposing  in  her  bosom — by  whose 
prayers,  nevertheless,  as  by  pillars,  the  infirmity  of 
the  nation  was  sustained.  These  things,  the  author 
wishes  us  to  understand,  he  writes  not  in  anger  but 
in  pure  sorrow  ;  for  it  is  needless  to  conceal  what 
foreign  nations  know  and  cast  in  our  teeth. 

Such  is  the  tenor  of  this  book  of  Gildas,  be  it 
history,  epistle,  or  what  it  may.  A  multitude  of 
questions  rise  up  as  to  the  sufficiency  of  his  testi- 
mony, the  completeness  of  the  Saxon  conquest  and 
various  other  points  in  connection  with  it,  which 
we  may  here  dismiss.  But  no  one  will  doubt  the 
general  truth  to  which  this  remarkable  composition 
bears  witness — that  the  withdrawal  of  the  Romans 
and  the  settlement  in  the  island  of  the  pagan 
Saxons  led  to  something  that  might  well  be  called 
"  the  destruction  of  Britain  ;  "  that  the  new  comers 
made  havoc  of  civilization,  and  that  the  early 
planted  Christianity  of  the  Britons,  cut  off  from  the 
Christianity  of  Europe,  became  so  degenerate  and 
corrupt  that  it  had  no  influence  whatever  in  miti- 
gating the  fury  of  the  conquerors.  The  absence  of 
all  other  records  on  this  point  only  confirms  the 
solitary  testimony  of  Gildas  ;  for  a  civilized  people 
always  preserves  some  evidences  of  its  civilization. 
But  here  we  have  no  other  contemporary  docu- 
ments— no  other  fruit  of  that  doomed  and  decay- 
ing nationality  than  this  pitiful  lament  over  its 
decay.  In  another  generation  or  two  the  Britons 
will  have  ceased  to  exist  as  a  nation  altogether,  or 
ceased,  at  all  events,  to  be  any  longer  called  b/ 
that  name. 


lo  "Carls  Q>])xomUtsi  of  lEnglanb. 

The  revival  of  civilization  came  again  from 
Rome  ;  not,  as  at  first,  by  the  subjugation  of  the 
island  by  Roman  arms,  but  by  an  influence  still 
more  powerful  and  more  humanizing.  The  tri- 
umphant pagans  who  now  possessed  the  land 
learned  the  tidings  of  salvation  from  the  preaching 
of  St.  Augustine,  and  became  more  gentle  than 
the  subject  race  had  been  in  the  days  of  their 
independence.  For  the  record  of  the  mode  in 
which  the  change  was  wrought  we  are  indebted  to 
Bede's  Ecclesiastical  History  of  the  English  Nation  ; 
and  it  is  certainly  the  most  interesting  narrative  to 
be  found  in  our  early  annals.  We  therefore  present 
it  to  the  reader  in  the  very  words  of  the  original 
author,  translated  from  the  Latin  : — 

"In  the  year  of  our  Lord  582,  Maurice,  the  fifty-fourth  from 
Augustus,  ascended  the  throne,  atid  reigned  twenty-one 
years.  In  the  tenth  year  of  his  reign,  Gregory,  a  man  con- 
spicuous for  his  learning  and  ability,  having  attained  the 
pontificate  of  the  Roman  Apostolic  See,  ruled  it  for  thirteen 
years,  six  months,  and  ten  days  ;  who,  being  warned  by  a 
divine  instinct,  in  the  fourteenth  year  of  the  same  emperor, 
and  about  the  one-hundred  and  fiftieth  after  the  coming  of 
the  English  into  Britain,  sent  the  servant  of  God,  Augustine, 
and  several  others  along  with  him,  monks  who  feared  the 
Lord,  to  preach  the  word  of  God  to  the  English  nation.  But 
when  in  obedience  to  the  Pope's  commands  they  had  begun 
to  take  that  work  in  hand,  and  had  proceeded  some  way 
upon  the  journey,  they  were  seized  with  a  sluggish  fear,  and 
thought  rather  to  return  home  than  go  to  a  barbarous,  fierce, 
and  unbelieving  nation,  whose  language  even  they  did  not 
understand  ;  and  this  they  all  agreed  was  the  safer  course. 
And  straightway  they  sent  home  Augustine,  whom  he  had 
determined  to  appoint  their  bishop  if  they  v/ere  received  by 


9Sct>e.  II 

the  English,  to  obtain  leave  of  the  blessed  Gregory  by  humble 
supplications,  that  they  should  not  undertake  so  dangerous, 
toilsome,  and  uncertain  a  journey.  The  pope  sent  them  a 
letter  of  exhortation  persuading  them  to  go  forward  in  the 
work,  relying  on  the  aid  of  the  divine  Word  ;  of  which  letter 
the  tenor  was  as  follows  : — 

" '  Gregory,  the  servant  of  the  servants  of  God.  Forasmuch 
as  it  had  been  better  not  to  begin  a  good  work  than  in 
thought  to  desist  from  that  which  is  begun,  it  behoves  you, 
my  beloved  sons,  by  all  means  to  complete  the  good  work 
which  with  the  Lord's  aid  you  have  entered  upon.  Let  not 
therefore  the  toil  of  the  journey  nor  the  tongues  of  men  who 
speak  evil  deter  you  ;  but  with  all  assiduity  and  fervour 
accomplish  the  things  which,  prompted  by  God,  you  have 
commenced,  knowing  that  the  glory  of  an  eternal  reward 
follows  a  great  labour.  Obey  in  everything  your  chief 
Augustine  who  is  returning  to  you,  and  whom  I  appoint  to 
you  as  abbot,  knowing  that  whatever  shall  be  effected  by 
you  according  to  his  direction  will  be  in  every  way  for  the 
advantage  of  your  souls.  Almighty  God  protect  you  by  His 
grace,  and  grant  that  I  may  in  the  eternal  country  see  the 
fruit  of  your  labour  ;  so  that,  although  I  cannot  labour  with 
you,  I  shall  be  found  along  with  you  in  the  joy  of  the  reward, 
because  at  least  I  desire  to  labour.  God  keep  you  in  safety, 
my  most  beloved  sons.  Given  on  the  loth  of  the  kalends  of 
August  (23rd  July)  in  the  fourteenth  year  of  the  reign  of 
our  most  pious  and  august  lord,  the  Emperor  Mauritius 
Tiberius,  the  thirteenth  year  after  the  consulate  of  our  said 
lord,  Indiction*  xiv.' 

"The  same  venerable  Pope  then  sent  also  a  letter  to 
yEtherius,  archbishop  of  Aries,  that  he  should  give  a  kind 
reception  to  Augustine  on  his  way  to  Britain  ;  of  which  letter 
this  was  the  tenor  : — 

♦  The  Indictions  were  another  mode  of  reckoning  years.  They 
took  in  a  cycle  of  fifteen  years,  the  successive  years  being  numbered 
Indiction  I.,  Indiction  II.,  and  so  forth,  to  Indiction  XV.,  after 
which  the  numbers  were  repeated,  begining  again  with  Indiction  I. 


12  lEarlg  (^^xonitUx^  of  lEnglanlJ. 

" '  To  his  most  reverend  and  mosi  holy  brother  andfellow' 
bishop  ^therius,  Gregory  servant  of  the  servants  of  God. 

" '  Although  with  priests  who  have  the  charity  which  is  well 
pleasing  to  God,  religious  men  stand  in  need  of  no  man's 
recommendation,  yet  as  a  fitting  opportunity  of  writing  offers 
itself,  we  have  determined  to  send  our  letters  to  your  brother- 
hood, *  intimating  that  we  have  sent  thither  for  the  good  of 
souls  the  bearer  of  these  presents,  Augustine,  the  servant  of 
God,  of  whose  assiduity  we  are  assured,  with  other  servants 
of  God  besides,  whom  it  is  needful  that  your  holiness  hasten 
to  assist  with  sacerdotal  zeal  and  afford  him  comfort.  And 
that  you  may  be  the  more  ready  to  grant  him  assistance,  wc 
have  enjoined  him  particularly  to  relate  to  you  the  cause, 
being  assured  that  when  it  is  fully  known  to  you,  you  will 
apply  yourself  for  the  love  of  God  to  grant  him  succour,  for 
the  case  requires  it.  We  also  commend  to  your  charity  in 
all  things  Candidus  the  priest,  our  common  son,  whom  we 
have  sent  for  the  government  of  a  small  patrimony  in  our 
church.  God  preserve  thee  in  safety,  most  reverend  brother. 
Given  on  the  loth  of  the  kalends  of  August  (23rd  July)  in 
the  fourteenth  year  of  the  reign  of  our  lord  the  Emperor 
Mauritius  Tiberius,  the  thirteenth  year  after  the  consulship 
of  the  same  lord,  Indiction  xiv.' 

"Thus  strengthened  by  the  confirmation  of  the  blessed 
Father  Gregory,  Augustine,  with  the  servants  of  Christ  who 
went  along  with  him,  returned  to  the  work  of  the  Word,  and 
arrived  in  Britain.  At  that  time  Ethelbert  was  king  in  Kent, 
a  most  powerful  sovereign  who  had  extended  his  sway  to  the 
confines  of  the  great  river  Humber,  by  which  the  southern 
and  the  northern  peoples  of  the  EngHsh  are  divided.  On  the 
Eastern  side  of  Kent  is  Thanet,  an  island  not  very  small, — 
that  is  to  say  of  the  magnitude  of  600  families,  according  to 
the  customary  computation  of  the  English, — which  is  divided 

*  It  will  be  observed  that  "your  brotherhood"  (a  title  which 
sounds  rather  unconventional  in  English)  and  "your  holiness" 
were  modes  of  address  used  at  this  time  even  by  the  chief  bishop  of 
Christendom  in  addressing  other  bishops. 


93ctic.  13 

from  the  mainland  by  the  river  Wantsum,  about  three  furlongs 
{stadia)  in  breadth*  and  fordable  only  in  two  places,  for  either 
end  of  it  runs  into  the  sea.  On  this  island  landed  Augustine, 
the  servant  of  God,  and  his  companions,  a  company,  it  is 
said,  of  nearly  forty  men.  They  had  by  order  of  the  blessed 
Pope  Gregory  taken  interpreters  of  the  nation  of  the  Franks, 
and  sending  to  Ethelbcrt,  Augustine  informed  him  that  he 
had  come  from  Rome,  and  brought  the  best  possible  of 
tidings,  which  promised  those  who  obeyed  the  message 
eternal  joy  in  heaven,  and  a  kingdom  that  would  be  without 
end  with  the  living  and  true  God.  Hearing  this  he  com- 
manded them  to  remain  in  that  island  where  they  had  landed, 
and  that  all  necessaries  should  be  supplied  to  them,  until  he 
should  consider  what  to  do  with  them  ;  for  the  fame  of  the 
Christian  religion  had  already  reached  him,  as  he  had  si 
Christian  wife  of  the  nation  of  the  Franks,  by  name  Bertha, 
whom  he  had  received  from  her  parents,  on  the  condition 
that  she  should  be  allowed  to  continue  without  interruption 
the  rite  of  her  religion  with  a  bishop  whom  they  had  given 
her  to  assist  her  faith,  whose  name  was  Luidhard.  Some 
days  later,  accordingly,  the  king  came  to  the  island,  and 
sitting  in  the  open  air,  commanded  Augustine  and  his  com- 
panions to  come  and  confer  with  him.  For  he  had  taken 
the  precaution  that  they  should  not  come  to  him  in  any 
house,  lest  according  to  an  old  superstition  if  they  practised 
any  magical  arts  they  might  impose  upon  him,  and  so  get  the 
better  of  him.  But  they  came  furnished  with  divine,  not 
with  magic  virtue,  bearing  a  silver  cross  for  a  banner,  and  a 
figure  of  our  Lord  and  Saviour  painted  in  a  picture,  and 
singing  litanies  petitioned  the  Lord  for  the  eternal  salvation 
alike  of  themselves  and  of  those  on  whose  account  and  to 
whom  they  had  come.  And  when  at  the  king's  command 
they  had  sat  down,  and  preached  the  Word  of  life  to  him  and 
all  his  attendants  there  present,  he  replied,  *  Your  words  are 

*  The  stream  which  divides  Thanet  from  the  rest  of  Kent  is  in 
our  day  extremely  narrow,  and  is  called  the  Stour ;  but  in  Bede's 
time  it  formed  a  very  broad  channel,  and  was  called  the  Wantsum. 


14  icatlg  €i)ton\cUx$  of  lEnglanO. 


fair,  and  the  promises  you  bring,  but  as  they  are  new  and 
uncertain,  I  cannot  give  my  assent  to  them  and  reHnquish 
the  customs  that  I  have  so  long  observed  along  with  the 
whole  English  nation.  But  as  you  are  travellers  who  have 
come  a  long  distance  hither,  and,  as  I  believe  I  apprehend 
your  meaning,  you  are  desirous  to  communicate  to  us  the 
things  which  you  yourselves  believe  to  be  true  and  excellent, 
we  will  not  molest  you,  but  rather  give  you  favourable  enter- 
tainment and  take  care  to  supply  you  with  things  necessary 
for  your  support ;  nor  do  we  forbid  you  to  preach  and  gain 
as  many  as  you  can  to  the  faith  of  your  religion.'  He 
accordingly  gave  them  an  abode  in  the  city  of  Canterbury, 
which  was  the  capital  of  all  his  kingdom,  and,  as  he  had  pro- 
mised, along  with  the  supply  of  temporal  food  did  not  refuse 
them  liberty  of  preaching.  It  is  reported  also  that  as  they 
drew  near  the  city,  after  their  manner,  with  the  image  of  the 
great  king  our  Lord  Jesus  Christ,  they  sang  in  concert  this 
litany,  *  We  beseech  Thee,  O  Lord,  in  all  Thy  mercy,  that 
Thy  fury  and  Thine  anger  be  turned  away  from  this  city, 
and  from  Thy  holy  house,  for  we  have  sinned.     Hallelujah.' 

"  As  soon  as  they  entered  the  dwelling-place  assigned  to 
them  they  began  to  imitate  the  apostolic  life  of  the  primitive 
Church  ;  serving  that  is  to  say,  with  constant  prayers,  watch- 
ings,  and  fastings  ;  preaching  the  wo.d  of  hfe  to  whom  they 
could  ;  despising  the  things  of  this  worid  as  not  their  own, 
accepting  only  the  things  which  seemed  necessary  for  susten- 
ance from  those  whom  they  instructed ;  living  themselves  in 
all  respects  according  to  what  they  taught,  and  with  a  mind 
prepared  to  suffer  any  adversity  or  even  to  die  for  the  truth 
they  preached.  In  short,  some  believed  and  were  baptized, 
admiring  the  simplicity  of  their  innocent  life,  and  the  sweet- 
ness of  their  heavenly  doctrine.  Now  there  was  near  that 
city,  on  the  east  side,  a  church  raised  of  old  in  honour  of  St. 
Martin,  when  the  Romans  as  yet  inhabited  Britain,  in  which 
the  Queen,  who,  as  we  have  already  mentioned,  was  a 
Christian,  used  to  pray.  In  this,  accordingly,  they  also  first 
began  to  meet,  to  sing,  to  pray,  to  say  masses,  to  preach  and 


ISelJe.  1 5 

to  baptize,  until,  the  king  being  converted  to  the  faith,  they 
obtained  a  greater  Hberty  of  preaching  everywhere  and  build- 
ing or  restoring  churches.  But  when  he  also  among  others, 
captivated  by  the  unsullied  hfe  of  the  holy  men  and  with 
their  most  dehghtful  promises,  the  truth  of  which  they 
confirmed  by  the  exhibition  of  many  miracles,  beHeved  and 
was  baptized,  greater  numbers  began  daily  to  pour  in  to  hear 
the  word,  and,  forsaking  their  heathen  rites,  to  associate  them- 
selves by  beheving  to  the  unity  of  the  Holy  Church  of  Christ  ; 
whose  faith  and  conversion  the  king  so  far  encouraged, 
as  that  he  compelled  none  to  embrace  Christianity,  but 
only  showed  greater  affection  to  believers  as  fellow-citizens 
with  him  in  the  kingdom  of  heaven  ;  for  he  had  learned 
from  his  teachers  and  the  authors  of  his  salvation  that  the 
service  of  Christ  ought  to  be  voluntary,  not  enforced.  Nor 
was  it  long  before  he  gave  those  teachers  a  settled  residence, 
suitable  to  their  degree,  in  Canterbury,  his  metropolis,  with 
at  the  same  time  necessary  possessions  of  divers  kinds." 

A  little  later  in  his  history,  after  recording  the 
death  of  Pope  Gregory,  Bede  relates  the  familiar 
tradition  as  to  the  circumstance  which  first  inspired 
him  with  the  idea  of  Christianizing  the  Britons. 
And  though  the  histoiian  is  careful  to  give  it  only 
as  a  tradition  or  popular  belief,  which  cannot  in 
any  case  be  considered  so  certain,  or  even  so 
worthily  characteristic  of  the  pope  himself,  as  the 
correspondence  with  St.  Augustine,  the  story  is 
so  full  of  graphic  interest,  that  we  reproduce  it  here 
as  it  was  originally  told. 

"  Nor  is  the  behef  to  be  passed  by  in  silence  which  has 
come  down  to  us  by  the  tradition  of  our  ancestors  as  to  the 
cause  by  which  St.  Gregory  was  moved  to  take  such  unre- 
niitting  interest  in  the  salvation  of  our  nation.  They  say  that 
one  day  certain  merchants  having  lately  arrived  [at  Rome],  a 


i6  garlg  (tf)xomcUx^  of  'Englanli. 

quantity  of  goods  was  brought  into  the  market  for  sale,  and 
many  people  had  resorted  thither  to  buy  ;  and,  among  the 
rest,  Gregory  himself  came  and  saw,  together  with  other  mer- 
chandise, some  boys  exposed  for  sale,  their  bodies  white,  their 
faces  handsome,  and  their  hair  remarkably  beautiful.  And 
having  looked  at  them,  he  asked,  as  they  say,  from  what 
country  or  land  they  had  been  brought,  and  was  told  from 
the  island  of  Britain,  whose  inhabitants  were  of  such  appear- 
ance. Again  he  asked  whether  the  same  islanders  were 
Christians  or  were  still  involved  in  pagan  errors,  and  was  told 
that  they  were  pagans.  Then,  fetching  a  deep  sigh  from  the 
bottom  of  his  heart, '  Alas  !  the  pity,'  said  he,  *  that  the  author 
of  darkness  should  possess  men  of  so  bright  a  countenance, 
and  that  persons  conspicuous  for  so  much  grace  of  aspect 
should  have  minds  void  of  inward  grace  !'  He  therefore 
again  asked  what  was  the  name  of  that  nation.  He  was 
answered  that  they  were  called  Angles.  *  That  is  well,'  said 
he, '  for  they  have  angelic  faces,  and  such  men  ought  to  be 
co-heirs  with  the  angels  in  heaven.  What  is  the  name,'  he 
said,  *  of  the  province  from  which  they  have  been  brought  ?  * 
He  was  told  that  the  people  of  that  province  were  called 
Deiri.  '  That  is  well,'  he  said  again, '  Deiri,  withdrawn  from 
wrath  (de  ira)  and  called  to  the  mercy  of  Christ.  How  is  the 
king  of  that  province  named.'*'  The  answer  was  that  he  was 
called  iElla ;  and  he,  alluding  to  the  name,  said  '  Allelujah  ! 
the  praise  of  God  the  Creator  must  be  sung  in  those  parts. 
And  repairing  to  the  bishop  of  the  Roman  and  Apostolic  see 
(for  he  himself  had  not  yet  been  made  pontiff)  he  asked  him 
to  send  into  Britain  to  the  nation  of  the  Angles  some  ministers 
of  the  Word,  by  whom  they  might  be  converted  to  Christ, 
declaring  himself  ready  to  undertake  the  work  with  the  Lord's 
assistance  if  only  the  Pope  were  pleased  that  he  should  do  so. 
Which  thing  he  was  not  for  a  while  able  to  perform,  because, 
although  the  Pope  was  willing  to  grant  him  what  he  asked, 
yet  the  citizens  of  Rome  could  not  allow  him  to  withdraw  so 
far  from  the  city.  Afterwards,  when  he  was  himself  made 
Pope,  he  achieved  the  work  so  long  desired,  sending  other 


preachers,  indeed,  but  himself  aiding  by  his  exhortations  and 
prayers  that  their  preaching  should  bear  fruit." 

Thus  by  the  efforts  of  Gregory  and  St.  Augustine 
not  only  were  the  seeds  of  true  religion  sown  among 
a  barbarous  people,  but  a  hierarchy  was  established 
in  the  land  to  preserve  the  fruits  that  had  been  sown. 
For  whatever  may  be  said  in  favour  of  desultory 
missionary  efforts  on  which  much  zeal  has  undoubt- 
edly been  expended  in  modern  times,  it  is  clear 
that  the  religion  of  Christ  would  have  made  little 
progress  among  our  ancestors  without  an  organized 
society,  having  intercourse  with  other  societies 
abroad,  and  receiving  continual  encouragement  and 
exhortation  from  an  authority  of  considerable 
weight  at  Rome.  Even  as  it  was,  there  were  very 
serious  relapses  into  idolatry.  After  Ethelbert's 
death  his  son  remained  for  some  time  a  pagan,  and 
became  a  persecutor,  so  that  almost  every  minister 
of  Christianity  was  driven  to  take  refuge  abroad. 
But  Bede  being  a  north  countryman  was  specially 
interested  in  the  story  of  the  conversion  of  Edwin, 
king  of  Northumbria,  which  was  effected  partly  by 
the  influence  of  his  wife,  Ethelberga,  the  daughter 
of  Ethelbert  of  Kent.  The  Pope,  at  least,  wrote  her 
a  letter  to  encourage  her  eftbrts  in  that  direction  ; 
but  the  principal  cause  of  his  conversion,  according 
to  the  historian,  was  an  angelic  vision  that  he  re- 
membered having  had  before  he  became  king,  at  a 
time  when  his  life  was  in  great  danger  from  his 
enemies.  In  fulfilment  of  a  vow  which  he  then 
made,  Paulinus  urged  him  to  become  a  Christian, 

ENG.  C 


i8  lEarls  ©j^romclet^  of  lEnglanH. 

and  he  expressed  his  willingness  to  do  so  after 
hearing  the  advice  of  his  councillors,  whom  he 
accordingly  convoked  to  discuss  the  question.  In 
their  opinion  the  worship  of  the  pagan  gods  was 
utterly  futile,  and  there  seemed  much  to  say  for  the 
adoption  of  a  new  religion  which  promised  more 
solid  comfort;  so  Edwin  suffered  himself  to  be 
baptized. 

The  description  of  this  council  by  the  historian 
contains  some  points  of  graphic  interest,  both  as 
regards  the  event  itself,  and  as  reflecting  the  mode 
of  life  among  our  forefathers.  The  reader  will 
therefore  doubtless  be  glad  of  the  following  extract. 
After  reporting  the  speech  of  one  councillor,  the 
narrative  goes  on  as  follows  : — 

"To  whose  persuasion  another  of  the  king's  chief  men 
giving  his  assent,  added  with  prudent  words — 'To  me,  O 
king,  the  present  life  of  man  on  earth  appears  in  comparison 
with  that  time  which  is  unknown  to  us,  even  as  when  you  sit 
at  supper  in  winter  time  with  your  commanders  and  ministers, 
a  fire  being  kindled  in  the  midst  and  the  room  being  warmed, 
while  wintry  storms  of  rain  or  snow  prevail  out  of  doors,  a 
sparrow  happens  to  come  and  fly  swiftly  through  the  house. 
Scarcely  has  it  entered  at  one  door  when  it  is  out  at  the  other. 
And  during  the  time  that  it  is  within  it  is  not  touched  by  the 
winter  storm  ;  but  after  a  brief  interval  ot  calm,  escaping  for 
a  moment  out  of  winter,  it  returns  into  winter  again,  and 
vanishes  from  your  eyes.  So  this  life  of  man  appears  for  a 
short  space,  but  what  shall  follow  or  what  may  have  gone 
before  we  are  utterly  ignorant.  If,  therefore,  this  new  doctrine 
has  brought  anything  more  certain,  it  seems  well  worth  fol- 
lowing.' 

"The  other  elders  and  councillors  of  the  king,  divinely 
admonished,  spoke  to  the  same  effect.     But  Coifi  (mentioned 


before  as  the  chief  priest  of  the  pagan  worship)  added  that 
he  wished  to  hear  more  attentively  Paulinus  himself  discours- 
ing' of  the  God  whom  he  preached  ;  and  when  the  latter  had 
done  so  at  the  king-'s  command,  he  exclaimed  on  hearing 
his  words,  '  I  have  long  since  been  sensible  that  what  we 
worshipped  was  nothing,  because  the  more  diligently  I  sought 
for  truth  in  that  worship  the  less  I  found  it.  But  now  I 
openly  profess  that  in  this  preaching  is  manifest  that  truth 
which  is  able  to  confer  upon  us  the  gift  of  eternal  life,  salva- 
tion, and  happiness.  I  therefore  propose,  O  king,  that  we 
forthwith  give  over  to  cursing  and  to  fire  the  temples  and 
altars  that  we  have  consecrated  without  any  fruit  of  useful- 
ness.' 

"  In  short  the  king  openly  gave  his  assent  to  the  preaching 
of  the  blessed  Paulinus,  and  renouncing  idolatry  confessed 
that  he  received  the  faith  of  Christ.  And  when  he  asked  the 
said  priest  of  his  former  worship  who  ought  first  to  profane 
the  altars  and  temples  of  the  idols,  with  the  enclosures  by 
which  they  were  surrounded,  he  answered,  *  I  ;  for  who  can, 
more  properly  than  myself,  for  an  example  to  all  men,  destroy 
the  things  which  I  worshipped  in  foolishness  through  the 
wisdom  given  me  by  the  true  God?'" 

The  historian  then  tells  us  how  Edwin  was 
baptised  at  York  on  Easter  Day,  being  the  12th 
April  (which  fixes  the  year  as  A.D.  627),  "  in  the 
Church  of  St.  Peter  the  Apostle,  which  he  himself 
built  of  timber,  hurrying  on  the  work  while  he  was 
beinor  catechised  and  instructed  in  order  to  receive 
baptism."  He  appointed  that  city  to  be  the  see  of 
Paulinus,  the  bishop  who  instructed  him,  and  after 
his  baptism  built  a  larger  and  a  finer  church  of 
stone  there,  enclosing  within  its  walls  the  original 
wooden  oratory.  The  king's  example  had  a  power- 
ful effect  upon  the  Northumbrians;   for  Paulinus, 


20  lEarls  (^ffvoMeta  of  lEnglantJ. 

going  once  with  the  king  and  queen  to  a  royal 
country  seat  near  Wooler,  was  occupied  for  thirty- 
six  whole  days  from  morning  to  night  in  nothing 
else  than  catechising  and  baptising  converts  in  the 
river  Glen.  The  zeal  of  Edwin  also  persuaded  the 
king  of  the  East  Saxons  to  receive  the  faith,  and 
Paulinus  carried  his  missionary  efforts  south  of  the 
H umber  into  the  province  of  Lindsey.  The  memory 
of  these  things  had  not  entirely  faded  at  the  time 
Bede  wrote.  A  priest  well  known  to  him  had  con- 
versed with  one  of  the  original  converts  whom 
Paulinus  had  baptised  ;  and  by  his  report  he  was 
tall  in  stature,  a  little  bent,  with  black  hair,  lean 
visage,  and  slender  aquiline  nose  ;  his  aspect  at 
once  venerable  and  inspiring. 

Very  remarkable  is  the  story  how  Christianity 
made  its  way  when  apparently  it  was  all  but  ex- 
tinguished ;  how  the  pagan  hordes  of  Mercia  over- 
threw and  killed  the  good  king  Edwin  in  battle,  yet 
the  son  of  the  Mercian  king  became  a  Christian  ; 
how  the  kingdom  of  Northumbria  was  nearly 
crushed,  and  how  king  Oswy,  after  vainly  en- 
deavouring to  buy  peace  from  his  enemies,  vowed 
that  in  the  event  of  victory  he  would  dedicate  his 
daughter  to  the  service  of  God,  and  give  twelve 
farms  for  the  endowment  of  monasteries.  The 
battle  was  fought  near  Leeds,  and  king  Oswy  was 
victorious ;  on  which  his  daughter  became  a  nun 
under  the  abbess  Hilda,  at  Hartlepool,  till  two 
years  later  she  removed  with  the  abbess  to  the 
more  magnificent  foundation  that  Hilda  had  begun 


915etie.  2 1 

at  Whitby.  Even  so  in  another  part  of  the  island 
the  East  Saxons  returned  to  the  faith  that  they 
had  once  cast  off;  after  which  the  South  Saxons 
were  for  the  first  time  converted.  But  for  these 
things  we  must  be  content  to  refer  the  reader  to 
the  pages  of  Bede  himself.  Neither  can  we  afford 
to  dwell  upon  a  number  of  very  tempting  and 
beautiful  stories,  such  as  those  of  St.  Hilda  just 
mentioned,  who  founded  the  abbey  of  Whitby, — of 
Caedmon  the  poet,  who  could  not  sing  at  feasts 
after  the  fashion  of  his  countrymen  till  he  was  in- 
spired with  the  love  of  sacred  subjects  and  entered 
St.  Hilda's  monastery, — of  St.  Cuthbert,  whose 
bright  and  winning  countenance  induced  all  men 
to  unveil  their  hearts  to  him, — of  Adamnan,  abbot 
of  lona,  who  brought  the  Irish  to  conform  to  the 
Catholic  rule  of  Easter,  but  could  not  prevail  with 
his  own  monastery  to  do  the  same.  This  contro- 
versy about  Easter  occupies  a  very  conspicuous 
place  in  the  history.  It  was  settled  in  a  great 
council  held  at  St.  Hilda's  monastery  of  Whitby. 

At  the  end  of  his  work  Bede  gives  a  complete 
chronological  summary  of  the  events  related,  from 
the  invasion  of  Julius  Caesar  in  the  year  B.C.  60,  to 
A.D.  731.  He  also  adds  a  postscript,  giving  some 
particulars  about  himself  and  his  literary  labours, 
which  convey  a  most  astonishing  impression  of  his 
literary  activity.  His  object  in  writing  it,  however, 
seems  to  have  been  in  the  first  place  to  authenticate 
what  he  had  said  by  showing  the  reader  his  own 
devotion  to  letters,  and  enabling  him  to  judge  for 


2  2  lEarlg  ©JbronicUr^  of  lEnglanti. 

himself   what    opportunities    the   writer  had    for 
collecting  information  : — 

"  Thus  much  of  the  ecclesiastical  history  of  the  Britons, 
and  especially  of  the  English  nation,  as  far  as  I  could  learn, 
either  by  the  writings  of  the  ancients,  or  from  the  tradition 
of  our  ancestors,  or  by  my  own  knowledge,  I,  Bede,a  servant 
of  God  and  priest  of  the  monastery  of  the  blessed  Apostles 
Peter  and  Paul  which  is  at  Wcarmouth  and  Jarrow,  have 
composed.  And  being  born  in  the  territory  of  that  monas- 
tery, when  I  was  seven  years  old  I  was  given  to  be  educated 
to  the  most  reverend  Abbot  Benedict,  and  afterwards  to 
Ceolfrid  ;  and  having  spent  my  whole  life  since  that  time  in 
the  same  monastery,  I  have  devoted  myself  entirely  to  the 
study  of  Scripture,  and  at  intervals  between  the  observance 
of  regular  discipline  and  the  daily  care  of  singing  in  church 
[  always  took  delight  in  learning,  or  teaching,  or  writing. 
In  the  nineteenth  year  of  my  life  I  received  deacon's  orders, 
m  the  thirtieth  those  of  the  priesthood,  both  by  the  ministry 
of  the  most  reverend  bishop  John  and  by  order  of  Abbot 
Ceolfrid.  From  which  time  of  my  becoming  a  priest  till  the 
fifty-ninth  year  of  my  age  I  have  made  it  my  business,  for 
the  use  of  me  and  mine,  to  make  brief  notes  on  Holy  Scrip- 
ture from  the  writings  of  venerable  fathers,  or  even  to  add 
something  to  their  interpretations  in  accordance  with  their 
views,  viz.  : 

"  On  the  beginning  of  Genesis  to  the  birth  of  Isaac,  and 
the  choosing  of  Israel  and  rejection  of  Ishmael,  three  books. 

"Of  the  tabernacle  and  its  vessels,  and  the  vestments  of 
the  priests,  three  books. 

"  Also  on  the  first  part  of  Samuel,  that  is,  to  the  death  of 
Saul,  four  books. 

"  Of  the  building  of  the  temple,  four  books  of  allegorical 
exposition,  like  the  rest." 

And  so  on.     Altogether,  he  enumerates  no  less 
than   thirty-nine  different  subjects  or  headings,  on 


ISctc.  23 

each  of  which  he  had  written  at  least  one  book,  but 
more  commonly  two  or  three,  and  sometimes  six  or 
seven.  Nor  were  the  subjects  entirely  scriptural  ; 
on  the  contrary,  they  embraced  all  the  learning  and 
all  the  knowledge  of  the  times.  He  had  written  a 
book  of  letters  in  which  one  epistle  was  devoted  to 
an  explanation  of  leap  year  and  the  equinox 
according  to  Anatolius.  He  had  written  lives  of 
saints,  a  special  life  of  St.  Cuthbert,  a  history  of 
the  abbots  of  his  own  monastery,  a  book  of  hymns, 
a  book  of  epigrams,  a  book  of  orthography,  and  a 
book  of  poetry.  A  treatise  that  he  wrote  "  On  the 
Nature  of  Things  "  became  a  text-book  of  science  to 
succeeding  generations,  in  which,  to  use  the  words 
of  Professor  Morley,  he  "  condensed  the  knowledge 
of  his  day,  as  modified  by  religion,  on  the  subject 
of  the  World  and  its  Creation,  the  elements,  the 
firmament  and  heavens,  the  five  circles  of  the 
world  (northern,  solstitial,  equinoctial,  brumal,  and 
austral),  the  four  quarters  of  the  heavens,  the  stars, 
the  course  and  order  of  the  planets,  their  apses, 
their  changes  of  colour,  the  zodiac  and  its  signs, 
the  milky  way,  the  sun,  the  moon,  their  courses  and 
eclipses,  comets,  air,  winds,  thunder  and  lightning, 
the  rainbow,  clouds,  showers,  hail,  snow,  signs  of 
the  weather,  pestilence,  fresh  and  salt  water,  tides, 
the  sea,  the  Red  Sea,  the  Nile,  the  position  of  the 
Earth,  its  form  of  a  globe,  its  circle  and  dial 
shadows,  its  movement,  volcanic  ^tna,  and  the 
great  geographical  divisions  of  the  Earth." 

His  love  of  study  was  unbounded.     It  appears 


L^ 


34  lEarlg  ®|)ron{clet5J  of  lEnglant). 

from  his  book  on  poetry  and  other  evidences  that 
he  was  familiar  with  Greek,  and  it  is  believed  that 
he  knew  something  even  of  Hebrew.  But  nowhere 
does  his  devotion  to  literature  appear  more  strongly 
than  in  the  well-known  account  of  his  death 
written  by  his  pupil  Cuthbert  to  a  friend,  which, 
though  it  has  been  so  often  quoted  by  other  writers 
we  cannot  but  transcribe  and  lay  before  the  reader 
in  this  place  : — 

"To  his  fellow  reader  Cuthwin,  beloved  in  Christ,  Cuthbert 
his  schoolfellow,  health  for  ever  in  the  Lord.  I  have  received 
with  much  pleasure  the  small  present  which  you  sent  me, 
and  with  much  satisfaction  read  the  letters  of  your  devout 
erudition  ;  wherein  I  found  what  I  very  much  desired,  that 
masses  and  holy  prayers  are  diligently  celebrated  by  you  for 
our  father  and  master,  Bede,  whom  God  loved.  I  am,  there- 
fore, all  the  better  pleased,  for  the  love  of  him  (according  to 
my  capacity),  in  a  few  words  to  relate  in  what  manner  he 
departed  this  world,  as  I  understand  that  you  also  desire  and 
ask  the  same.  He  was  much  troubled  with  shortness  of 
breath,  yet  without  pain,  before  the  day  of  our  Lord's  Resur- 
rection, that  is,  for  nearly  a  fortnight  ;  and  thus  he  after- 
wards passed  his  life,  cheerful  and  rejoicing,  giving  thanks  to 
Almighty  God  every  day  and  night,  nay,  every  hour,  till  the 
day  our  Lord's  Ascension,  that  is,  the  seventh  before  the 
kalends  of  June  [26th  of  May],  and  daily  read  lessons  to  us 
his  disciples,  and  whatever  remained  of  the  day  he  spent  11. 
singing  psalms.  He  also  passed  all  the  night  awake,  in  jov 
and  thanksgiving,  except  so  far  as  a  very  slight  slumber  pre- 
vented it ;  but  he  no  sooner  awoke  than  he  presently  repeated 
his  wonted  exercises,  and  ceased  not  to  give  thanks  to  God 
with  uplifted  hands. 

"  O  truly  happy  man  !  He  chanted  the  sentence  of  St. 
Paul  the  Apostle,  '  It  is  dreadful  to  fall  into  the  hands  of  the 
living  God,'  and  much  more  out  of  Holy  Writ  ;  wherein  also 


IDeat]^  of  ^tht. 


he  admonished  us  to  think  of  our  last  hour,  and  to  shake  oft 
the  sleep  of  the  soul ;  and  being  learned  in  our  poetry,  he 
said  some  things  also  in  our  tongue,  for  he  said,  putting  the 
same  into  English, 

"  *  For  tham  neod  fere  JEv  his  heonen-gange 

Nenig  wyrtheth  Hwet  his  gaste 

rhances  snottra  Codes  oththe  yveles 

Thonne  him  thearf  sy        ^fter  deathe  heonen 
To  gehiggene  Demed  wurthe/ 

which  means  this  : 

"  *  No  man  is  wiser  than  is  requisite,  before  the  necessary 
departure  ;  that  is,  to  consider,  before  the  soul  departs  hence, 
what  good  or  evil  it  hath  done,  and  how  it  is  to  be  judged 
after  its  departure/ 

"  He  also  sang  antiphons  according  to  our  custom  and  his 
own,  one  of  which  is, '  O  King  of  glory.  Lord  of  all  power, 
who,  triumphing  this  day,  didst  ascend  above  all  the  heavens  ; 
do  not  leave  us  orphans,*  but  send  down  upon  us  the  spirit 
of  truth  which  was  promised  by  the  Father.  Hallelujah  !  't 
And  when  he  came  to  that  word,  *  do  not  leave  us  orphans,' 
he  burst  into  tears  and  wept  much,  and  an  hour  after  he 
began  to  repeat  what  he  had  commenced,  and  we,  hearing  it, 
mourned  with  him.  By  turns  we  read,  and  by  turns  we  wept, 
nay,  we  wept  always  while  we  read.  In  such  joy  we  passed 
the  period  of  fifty  days  (between  Easter  and  Whit-Sunday), 
till  the  aforesaid  day  ;  and  he  rejoiced  much  and  gave  God 
thanks  because  he  had  been  thought  worthy  to  be  so  weak- 
ened. He  often  repeated  'that  God  scourgeth  every  son 
whom  He  receiveth,'  and  much  more  out  of  Holy  Scripture  ; 
as  also  this  sentence  from  St.  Ambrose,  *  I  have  not  lived  so 
as  to  be  ashamed  to  live  among  you  ;  nor  do  I  fear  to  die, 
because  we  have  a  gracious  God.'    During  these  days  he 

•  See  St.  John  xiv.  i8.  The  word  translated  "comfortless" 
in  our  version  is  in  the  Greek  op<pavov5. 

t  This  is  the  antiphon  for  vespers  on  Ascension  Day  in  the 
Sarum  breviary,  and  is  now  used  with  some  modification  in  our 
Church  as  the  collect  for  the  Sunday  after. 


26  lEatlg  €|)ton{(Iet&  of  1EngIan». 

laboured  to  compose  two  works  well  worthy  to  be  remem- 
bered, besides  the  lesson^  we  had  from  him,  and  singing  of 
Psalms ;  viz.,  he  translated  the  Gospel  of  St.  John  into  our 
own  tongue  for  the  benefit  of  the  church  ;  and  some  collec- 
tions out  of  the  book  of  Notes  of  Bishop  Isidorus,  saying,  '  I 
will  not  have  my  pupils  read  a  falsehood,  nor  labour  therein 
without  profit  after  my  death.'  When  the  Tuesday  before 
the  Ascension  of  our  Lord  came,  he  began  to  suffer  still 
more  in  his  breath,  and  a  small  swelling  appeared  in  his  feet ; 
but  he  passed  all  that  day  and  dictated  cheerfully,  and  now 
and  then,  among  other  things,  said,  *  Go  on  quickly,  I  know 
not  how  long  I  shall  hold  out,  and  whether  my  Maker  will 
not  soon  take  me  away.'  But  to  us  he  seemed  very  well  to 
know  the  time  of  his  departure  ;  and  so  he  spent  the  night 
awake,  in  thanksgiving. 

And  when  the  morning  appeared,  that  is  Wednesday, 
he  ordered  us  to  write  with  all  speed  what  he  had  begun  ; 
and  this  done,  we  walked  in  procession  with  the  relics 
of  the  saints  till  the  third  hour  as  the  custom  of  that  day 
was.  There  was  one  of  us,  however,  with  him,  who  said  to 
him,  *  Most  dear  master,  there  is  still  one  chapter  wanting  ; 
do  you  think  it  troublesome  to  be  asked  any  more  ques- 
tions?' He  answered,  *  It  is  no  trouble.  Take  your  pen, 
and  dip  it  and  write  fast.'  Which  he  did.  But  at  the  ninth 
hour  he  said  to  me,  *  I  have  some  little  articles  of  value  in 
my  chest,  such  as  pepper,  napkins,  and  incense  ;  run  quickly, 
and  bring  the  priests  of  our  monastery  to  me,  that  I  may 
distribute  among  them  the  gifts  which  God  has  bestowed  on 
me.  The  rich  in  this  world  are  bent  on  giving  gold  and 
silver,  and  other  precious  things.  But  I,  with  much  charity 
and  joy,  will  give  my  brothers  that  which  God  has  given  to 
me.'  He  spoke  to  every  one  of  them,  admonishing  and  en- 
treating them  that  they  would  carefully  say  masses  and 
prayers  for  him,  which  they  readily  promised  ;  but  they  all 
mourned  and  wept,  especially  because  he  said  that  they 
should  no  more  see  his  face  in  this  world.  They  rejoiced, 
however,  because  he  said,  *  The  time  is  come  that  I  shall 


29catjb  of  33etie.  27 


return  to  Him  who  formed  me  out  of  nothing  :  I  have  lived 
long ;  my  merciful  Judge  well  foresaw  my  life  for  me  ;  the 
time  of  my  dissolution  draws  nigh  ;  for  I  desire  to  die  and  to 
be  with  Christ.'  Having  said  much  more,  he  passed  the  day 
joyfully  till  the  evening  ;  and  the  boy  above  mentioned,  said  : 
'Dear  master,  there  is  yet  one  sentence  not  written.'  He 
answered,  *  Write  quickly.'  Soon  after,  the  boy  said,  *  The 
sentence  is  now  written.'  He  replied,  *  It  is  well,  you  have 
said  the  truth.  It  is  ended.  Receive  my  head  into  your 
hands,  for  it  is  a  great  satisfaction  to  me  to  sit  opposite  my 
holy  place  in  which  I  was  wont  to  pray,  that  I  may  also 
sitting  call  upon  my  Father.'  And  thus  on  the  pavement  of 
his  little  cell,  singing  *  Glory  be  to  the  Father,  and  to  the 
Son,  and  to  the  Holy  Ghost,'  when  he  had  named  the  Holy 
Ghost,  he  breathed  his  last,  and  so  departed  to  the  heavenly 
kingdom.  All  who  were  present  at  the  death  of  the  blessed 
father  said  they  had  never  seen  any  other  person  expire  with 
so  much  devotion,  and  in  so  tranquil  a  frame  of  mind.  For 
as  you  have  heard,  so  long  as  the  soul  animated  his  body,  he 
never  ceased  to  give  thanks  to  the  true  and  living  God,  with 
expanded  hands,  exclaiming,  '  Glory  be  to  the  Father,  and 
to  the  Son,  and  to  the  Holy  Ghost!'  with  other  spiritual 
ejaculations.  But  know  this,  dearest  brother,  that  I  could 
say  much  concerning  him,  if  my  want  of  learning  did  not 
cut  short  my  discourse.  Nevertheless,  by  the  grace  of  God  I 
purpose  shortly  to  write  more  concerning  him,  particularly  of 
those  things  which  I  saw  with  my  own  eyes,  and  heard  with 
my  own  ears." 

It  appears  from  this  letter  that  Bede  died  on 
Ascension  Day,  which  in  that  particular  year  fell 
on  the  26th  May.  The  date  must  therefore  have 
been  in  the  year  of  our  Lord  735  ;  and  as  the 
Ecclesiastical  History  terminates  in  the  year  731, 
it  is  clear  that  the  author  did  not  long  survive  the 
completion  of  his  greatest  work. 


28  lEarlc  (BffxonitUx^  of  1£nglanti» 

From  the  first  the  Ecclesiastical  History  of  Bede 
has  always  been  regarded  as  a  work  of  the  highest 
interest.  After  the  lapse  of  several  centuries  it  was 
still  looked  upon  as  the  model  of  what  a  history 
ought  to  be,  and  after  which  other  histories  ought 
to  be  written.  It  was  translated  by  the  great  king 
Alfred  into  the  vernacular  English  of  his  own  day, 
and  it  has  been  frequently  translated  since.  No 
one,  indeed,  can  be  indifferent  to  such  a  remarkable 
record  of  the  dawn  of  Christian  civilization  in  this 
country,  written  so  near  the  time  itself  by  one  of 
the  most  vigorous  and  many-sided  intellects  that 
England  ever  produced.  Much  of  the  information 
contained  in  it  seems  to  have  been  derived  from 
the  memory  of  persons  living  in  Bede's  own  day. 
A  good  deal  more  was  supplied  to  him  by  corre- 
spondents at  London  and  at  Canterbury.  Some 
part  also  is  believed  to  have  been  founded  on 
native  annals  not  now  extant.  It  is  evident  that 
the  author  sought  eagerly  for  information  wherever 
it  was  to  be  found. 

Nor  can  it  be  considered  a  reflection  upon  his 
judgment,  considering  the  slender  means  at  his 
disposal  for  the  verification  of  many  things,  that 
he  has  filled  a  considerable  portion  of  the  work 
with  miraculous  stories  which  the  modern  reader 
will  at  once  dismiss  as  fabulous.  It  was  the  uni- 
versal belief  in  those  days  that  the  power  of  work- 
ing miracles,  communicated  by  our  Lord  to  His 
apostles  in  the  first  instance,  had  never  ceased  to 
be  exercised  by  holy  men  in  the  Church,  and  the 


conviction  that  such  things  were  possible,  predis- 
posed the  mind  to  believe  in  them  as  facts.  The 
acknowledged  rarity  of  the  occurrences  at  the  same 
time  prevented  minute  inquiry;  for  the  power  of 
working  miracles  was  esteemed  an  attribute  of 
peculiar  saintliness,  and  if  the  immediate  wit- 
nesses were  mistaken  in  what  they  saw,  or  about 
the  instrumentality  through  which  it  was  effected, 
there  was  no  means  by  which  the  ablest  writer 
living  at  a  distance,  even  if  contemporary  with  the 
facts,  could  easily  correct  their  mistakes.  But  in 
Bede's  history  it  will  be  noted  that  marvels  of  this 
sort  abound  most  in  reference  to  a  period  long 
before  his  own  day,  and  where  it  is  otherwise  there 
is  generally  not  much  difficulty  in  explaining  the 
phenomenon  in  accordance  with  natural  laws. 

We  must  not,  therefore,  be  surprised  that  even  a 
writer  of  such  strong  intelligence  should  tell  us  that 
Germanus  stilled  a  tempest  in  the  channel  while 
going  over  to  Britain  to  quell  the  Pelagian  heresy  ; 
that  he  gave  eyesight  to  a  blind  girl,  and  performed 
a  number  of  other  miracles  not  recorded  ;  that  a 
fire  at  Canterbury,  against  which  all  human  efforts 
were  unavailing,  was  quenched  by  the  prayers  of 
the  infirm  and  gouty  Mellitus,  who  having  ordered 
himself  to  be  carried  to  the  place  where  it  was 
most  vehement,  caused  the  wind  immediately  to 
change.  Of  stories  like  these  there  is  great  abun- 
dance in  Bede's  history  ;  but  all  that  they  can  be 
justly  considered  to  prove  is  that  his  intense  and 
vehement  love  of  knowledge  went  far  beyond  the 


30  lEads  ©jbtonicler^  of  1£nglanl>» 

means  at  his  disposal  for  testing  the  accuracy  of 
his  information. 

We  pass  over  an  interval  of  nearly  two  hundred 
years  before  we  come  to  another  historian  of 
real  graphic  power.  Nor  have  we  even  then  a 
great  historian,  much  less  a  man  of  anything  like 
Bede's  comprehensiveness  and  universality  of  mind. 
He  is,  in  fact,  not  an  historian  at  all,  but  only  a 
biographer  ;  his  work  is  little  more  than  a  fragment, 
of  which  a  very  small  portion  is  original,  and  the 
interest  of  it  is  mainly  due  to  the  genuine  great- 
ness of  the  man  whom  he  describes  to  us.  Never- 
theless, Asser's  Life  of  Alfred  is  by  no  means 
contemptible,  even  as  a  literary  composition  ;  and 
if  it  is  seldom  studied  in  the  original,  some  part  of 
its  contents  is  known  to  all  and  related  in  other 
language  to  children  in  the  nursery  at  this  day. 

Although  the  place  of  his  birth  is  nowhere 
stated,  there  is  little  doubt  that  Asser  was  a 
Welshman.  Of  his  education  we  know  from  him- 
self that  he  was  brought  up  in  the  monastery  of 
St.  David's,  where  he  also  received  the  tonsure  and 
was  ordained  a  priest.  It  is  the  opinion  of  Sir 
Thomas  Hardy  that  he  ultimately  became  head 
of  that  house,  if  not  bishop  of  the  see ;  for  he 
speaks  of  injustice  done  both  to  the  see  and  to 
the  monastery  by  King  Hemeyd  of  South  Wales, 
and  complains  particularly  of  the  expulsion  of  the 
prelates,  including  himself  and  his  kinsman  Arch- 
bishop Novis.  It  was  this  circumstance  that  made 
him  to  some  extent  less  regardful  of  local  ties,  and 


^0ger*0  aife  of  ^IfwD.  31 

caused  him  to  yield  the  more  easily  to  the  per- 
suasions of  Alfred  to  spend  some  time  in  his  king- 
dom ;  for  he  felt  that  by  cultivating  the  frendship 
of  such  a  powerful  prince,  his  own  position,  even  in 
Wales,  would  be  materially  strengthened.  He  is, 
in  fact,  mentioned  by  later  writers  as  successor  to 
Novis  in  the  bishopric  of  St.  David's ;  and  he  him- 
self states  that  he  had  possessions  and  jurisdiction 
both  westward  and  northward  of  the  river  Severn. 
King  Alfred,  however,  set  a  high  value  on  his 
friendship,  and  gave  him  the  bishopric  of  Exeter, 
and  probably  also  that  of  Shirburn,  the  see  of  which 
was  in  after  times  transferred  to  Salisbury,  besides 
some  other  promotions.  Asser  himself  does  not 
mention  both  these  bishoprics,  but  only  that  of 
Exeter,  and  the  monasteries  of  Amesbury  and 
Banwell,  as  having  been  given  him  by  King  Alfred  ; 
but  as  Asser's  Life  of  Alfred  is  only  a  fragment 
composed  many  years  before  the  king's  death,  and 
never  completed  by  its  author,  it  is  quite  possible 
that  he  may  have  received  Shirburn  from  the  same 
patron  as  his  other  English  preferments. 

Asser,  however,  wrote  as  a  Welshman,  and  for 
the  use  of  Welshmen.  The  fact  is  apparent  from 
his  speaking  of  the  English  as  "  Saxons,"  and 
calling  their  country  "  Saxony,"  besides  translating 
English  local  names  by  Celtic  ones  ;  as,  for  example, 
Selwood,  which  he  not  only  renders  into  Latin  as 
Silva  MagnUy  but  into  British  or  Welsh  as  Coit- 
mawr.  It  is  remarkable,  and  to  my  mind  not  very 
consistent  with  those  theories  held  by  some  of  the 


^2  lEarlg  €^|)ronicUr0  of  lEnglanD. 

extermination  of  the  original  British  inhabitants  by 
the  Saxons,  that  a  considerable  number  of  places 
throughout  England,  though  they  had  by  this  time 
received  Saxon  names  from  the  most  recent  con- 
querors of  the  island,  were  still  known  to  the 
ancient  British  races  by  the  names  in  use  before 
the  conquest.  Just  as  at  this  day,  in  parts  of  Ire- 
land and  Scotland  which  a  few  generations  ago 
were  far  removed  from  intercourse  with  the  English- 
speaking  race,  a  village,  or  a  mountain,  is  known  to 
the  world  in  general  by  an  English  name,  but  to  the 
original  inhabitants  by  a  Celtic  one ;  so  it  was  in 
the  days  of  Asser  in  districts  absolutely  under  the 
dominion  of  the  Saxon.  Eaxanceastre,  or  Exeter, 
we  are  told,  was  called  in  British  Cairwisc,  Ciren- 
cester was  called  Cairceri,  Snotingaham(or  Notting- 
ham) was  called  Tigguocobauc,  or  the  House  of 
Caves,  Thornssta  (or  Dorset)  was  called  Durngueis. 
Even  on  the  east  coast  of  England  the  very  island 
on  which  the  Saxon  invaders  first  set  foot,  although 
it  had  received  from  them  the  name  which  it  still 
retains  of  Thanet,  was  known  to  some  in  the  days 
of  King  Alfred  by  its  old  British  name  of  Ruim. 

For  the  earlier  part  of  his  work  Asser  appears  to 
have  availed  himself  of  the  annals  known  as  the 
"^  Saxo?t  Chronicle,  which  he  simply  translated  into 
Latin  with  here  and  there  a  word  of  comment  or 
explanation.  He  begins,  however,  from  the  year 
849,  the  date  of  Alfred's'  birth,  which  he  uses 
throughout  as  an  era  ;  and  wherever,  in  translating 
from  the  Chronicle,  he  has  to  mention   the  year 


^^gcr*^  3LiU  of  ^IfwU/  33 

of  our  Lord,  he  is  always  careful  to  add  "which 
was  the  third  after  the  birth  of  King  Alfred," 
or,  which  was  the  twelfth,  thirty-ninth,  or  whatever 
it  might  be,  of  King  Alfred's  life.  From  the  year 
849  to  8Sy  the  work  is  in  this  way  mainly  derived 
from  the  Chronicle,  and  relates  even  more  to  the 
general  history  of  the  kingdom  than  to  the  life  of  j 
Alfred  himself.  But  it  is  of  course  to  the  original 
portion,  containing  those  personal  notices  of  the 
king  from  which  almost  all  our  knowledge  of  him 
is  derived,  that  the  work  owes  nearly  all  its  value. 

Here,  however,  as  in  the  case  of  Gildas,  the 
critics  will  not  let  us  rest.  How  much  of  Asser  is 
original  ?  Or  how  much  of  the  received  work  is 
really  authentic  ^  There  is  no  doubt,  unfortunately, 
that  it  has  been  much  interpolated ;  and  the  one 
bold  sceptic  who  impugns  the  authenticity  of 
Gildas  ventures  to  insinuate  here  too  that  the  whole 
treatise  is  the  production  of  a  later  age.  This 
theory,  however,  has  not  found  general  acceptance, 
and  we  only  mention  it  to  show  the  reader  how  our 
path  is  beset  with  difficulties.  The  question  as  to 
the  extent  of  the  interpolations  is  more  serious,  for, 
unfortunately,  no  ancient  manuscripts  of  Asser  now 
remain.  One  ancient  copy  which  appears  to  have 
been  used  by  Archbishop  Parker,  Asser's  first 
editor,  perished  in  the  disastrous  fire  which  con- 
sumed a  portion  of  the  Cottonian  library  in  173 1  ; 
and  it  is  perfectly  certain  that  even  Archbishop 
Parker  did  not  print  the  text  exactly  as  it  stood  in 
this  manuscript.     But  the  great  antiquary,  Camden, 

ENG.  D 


34  Icarlg  ©^roniclcr^  of  IcnglanD. 


who  printed  a  second  edition  of  this  treatise,  took  still 
further  liberties,  and  actually  inserted,  as  if  it  were 
part  of  Asser's  work,  a  passage  derived  from  a 
totally  different  source,  in  which  King  Alfred  is 
absurdly  represented  as  settling  disputes  at  the 
University  of  Oxford.  Great  scholars  even  in  the 
days  of  James  I.  could  believe  that  the  antiquity 
of  that  venerable  seat  of  learning  actually  reached 
back  to  the  days  of  King  Alfred. 

It  is  difficult  to  excuse  such  editing  as  this  ;  for, 
whatever  may  be  said  to  palliate  the  credulity 
which  in  that  age  was  disposed  to  accept  the  fact 
related,  there  could  be  no  justification  of  the  course 
Camden  pursued  in  introducing  foreign  matter  into 
Asser's  narrative.  Archbishop  Parker,  it  is  true, 
had  done  the  same  ;  but  the  passages  which  he 
introduced  were  from  a  work  which  he  believed  to 
be  by  the  same  author,  so  that  it  may  be  said  they 
were  inserted  in  good  faith,  though  by  no  means 
with  good  judgment.  The  Archbishop,  in  fact, 
confounded  together  two  totally  different  works, 
which  were  both  in  that  day  attributed  to  Asser, 
and  supplied  from  a  later  treatise  commonly  called 
Asser's  A  finals,  a  good  deal  of  matter  that  he 
found  omitted  in  the  Life  of  Alfred,  Now,  the 
so-called  Asser s  A?i?mls  borrow  a  good  deal  of 
their  contents,  either  from  the  Life  of  Alfred,  or 
from  the  corresponding  parts  of  the  Saxon 
Chronicle ;  and  where  they  contain  more  it  might 
very  well  have  appeared  that  the  manuscript  of  the 
Life  of  Alfred  was  defective.     But  instead  of  being 


the  real  work  of  Asser  it  can  be  shown  conclusively 
that  the  Annals  were  written  at  least  fourscore  years 
after  Asser's  death,  and  in  all  probability  they  are 
a  good  deal  later. 

Now,  the  natural  result  of  all  this  tampering  wltli 
Asser's  text  and  the  loss  of  the  one  ancient  manu- 
script which  existed  in  the  beginning  of  the  last  cen- 
tury, is  that  we  should  be  in  considerable  doubt  as  to 
what  Asser  really  said,  and  whether  any  part  of  the 
text  could  really  be  relied  on.  And  so,  in  fact,  we 
should  have  been,  but  that  in  1722,  just  before  the 
fire  in  the  Cottonian  Library,  an  edition  of  Asser 
was  published  by  an  editor  named  Wise,  in  which  the 
work  was  collated  throughout  with  all  the  manu- 
scripts then  known  to  exist.  From  this  collation 
we  can  now  declare  with  certainty  how  much  of  the 
received  text  was  contained  in  the  one  only  manu- 
script which  ought  to  have  been  regarded  as  of  much 
authority ;  and  even  this  manuscript,  it  would  seem, 
did  not  contain  the  text  of  Asser  absolutely  pure 
and  unadulterated.  But  the  revelations  made  by 
this  examination  are  not  a  little  instructive.  We 
shall  give  one  example  which  should  certainly 
interest  other  people  than  bookworms. 

The  old  familiar  story  of  Alfred  allowing  the 
cakes  to  burn  in  a  cowherd's  cottage  has  been 
generally  related  by  historians  on  the  authority  of 
Asser's  Life  of  Alfred.  On  examination  it  turns 
out  that  this  is  one  of  the  interpolations  of  a  later 
date.  This  is  not,  we  may  remark,  as  much  as  to 
say  that  the  incident  is  entirely  apocryphal ;    for 


3^  Icarig  (Cf)xomUx^  of  lEnglanD. 

a  story  preserved  for  some  time  by  tradition  may 
be  perfectly  true,  and  in  this  case  we  pronounce  no 
opinion  one  way  or  other.  But  the  fact  is  that  it 
formed  no  part  whatever  of  Asser's  work,  but  was 
tagged  on  by  the  author  of  the  so-called  A?mals  of 
Asser  to  a  passage  in  the  Life  derived  from  the 
Saxoft  Chronicle.  To  exhibit  the  whole  process  of 
manufacture,  we  will  first  give  the  words  of  the 
Saxo7i  Chro7ticle : — 

"  Anno  878.  This  year,  during  mid-winter,  the  army  [of  the 
Danes]  stole  away  to  Chippenham,  and  overran  the  land  of 
the  West  Saxons,  and  sat  down  there  ;  and  many  of  the 
people  they  drove  beyond  sea,  and  of  the  remainder  the 
greater  part  they  subdued  and  forced  to  obey  them,  except 
King  Alfred ;  and  he,  with  a  small  band,  with  difficulty 
retreated  to  the  woods  and  to  the  fortresses  of  the  moors." 

This  passage  Asser  translated,  it  may  be  a  little 
paraphrastically ;  but  even  in  the  translation  as  it 
now  stands,  we  find  an  additional  clause  referring 
to  a  life  of  St.  Neot  which  could  not  have  been  part 
of  the  original  text,  but  was  probably  embodied  in 
it  many  years  after  Asser's  death.  So  that  the 
latter  part  of  the  above  passage  reads  as  follows  in 
the  Life : — 

"  At  the  same  time,  the  above-named  King  Alfred,  with  a 
few  of  his  nobles  and  certain  soldiers  and  vassals,  used  to 
lead  an  unquiet  life  in  great  tribulation  among  the  woodlands 
and  marshy  districts  of  Somerset ;  for  he  had  nothing  to  live 
upon  except  what  he  could  take  by  frequent  forays,  either 
secretly  or  openly,  from  the  Pagans,  01  even  from  the 
Christians  who  had  submitted  to  the  Pagan  rule  ;  and  as  we 
read  in  the  Life  of  St.  Neot  he  [once  took  refuge]  with  one  of 
his  cowherds." 


^am*^  Sife  of  mutn.  37 

Here  we  have  the  first  allusion  to  the  cowherd, 
but  still  there  is  nothing  said  about  the  burning  of 
the  cakes  ;  nor  did  the  one  ancient  manuscript  con- 
tain the  story  when  it  was  unfortunately  burned 
in  the  Cottonian  fire.  But  even  in  the  earliest 
edition  of  the  work,  which  was  printed  by  Parker 
in  1574,  the  story  occurs  as  an  addition  to  the 
preceding  paragraph,  and  is  related  as  follows. 
We  adopt  the  translation  of  Dr.  Giles,  who  has 
turned  a  Latin  distich  in  the  original  in  a  very 
spirited  manner  into  verse  in  the  Somersetshire 
dialect : — 

"  But  it  happened  on  a  certain  day  that  the  countrywoman, 
wife  of  the  cowherd,  was  preparing  some  loaves  to  bake,  and 
the  king,  sitting  at  the  hearth,  made  ready  his  bow  and 
arrows  and  other  warlike  instruments.  The  unlucky  woman 
espying  the  cakes  burning  at  the  fire,  ran  up  to  remove  them, 
and  rebuking  the  brave  king,  exclaimed — 
'  Ca'sn  thee  mind  the  ke-aks,  man,  and  doossen  zee  'em  burn  ? 
I'm  boun'  thee's  eat  'em  vast  enough,  az  zoon  az  'tiz  the 
turn.' 
The  blundering  woman  little  thought  that  it  was  King  Alfred, 
who  had  fought  so  many  battles  against  the  Pagans,  and 
gained  so  many  victories  over  them." 

That  this  was  a  distinct  addition  to  the  original 
text  is  shown  by  the  fact  that  it  was  not  contained 
in  the  old  Cottonian  manuscript,  but  only  in  the 
so-called  Asser's  Annals.  And  the  reader  will 
observe  that  it  also  bears  internal  evidence  of  being 
an  interpolation  in  the  fact  that  it  is  positively 
inconsistent  with  what  goes  before.  For  the  Lif& 
itself,  following  the  authority  of  a  Life  of  St.  Neott 


38  lEatlfi  ©^vonUIcr^  of  lEuglant). 

says  the  king  took  shelter  with  one  of  his  own  cow- 
herds {apiid  qucndam  siium  vaccarium),  evidently  a 
trusty  dependent  who  knew  him  personally ;  while 
the  anecdote  taken  out  of  the  Annals  states  that 
the  cowherd's  wife  did  not  know  who  her  guest  was. 
It  is  impossible,  surely,  that  a  writer  who  intended 
to  tell  such  a  story  would  previously  have  used  the 
expression  "  apud  quendam  suum  vaccarium." 

Indeed,  the  inconsistency  is  even  more  marked 
if  we  look  at  the  pseudo  Annals  of  Asser  them- 
selves ;  for  it  will  be  seen  that  in  the  second  last 
extract,  which  is  taken  from  the  Life  of  Alfred,  we 
have  been  obliged  to  bracket  in  three  words — 
"  once  took  refuge " — to  complete  the  sense  and 
make  good  grammar.  This  may  have  been  a  mere 
accidental  omission  in  the  manuscript  ;  for  even  in 
the  Latin  it  cannot  be  said  that  the  absence  of  a 
verb  in  the  sentence  is  consistent  with  good  com- 
position. But  if  we  go  to  the  pseudo  Asser,  from 
which  the  writer  was  transcribing,  we  find  the  verb 
supplied,  and  along  with  it  an  adverb,  which 
together  make  the  sense  very  much  stronger  than 
that  of  the  three  words  we  have  bracketed.  For  the 
statement  there  is,  not  that  Alfred  merely  "  once 
took  refuge,"  but  that  he  "  lay  hid  for  a  long  time  " 
{din  latebat)  at  the  house  of  this  cowherd ;  so  that 
the  idea  that  the  cowherd's  wife — his  own  dependent 
— did  not  know  who  he  was,  becomes  far  more 
improbable.  At  all  events,  if  the  writer  of  the 
Annals  had  entertained  this  idea,  he  would  pro- 
bably have  expressed  it  that  his  narrative  might 
not  seem  to  suggest  the  contrary. 


'^^^€r*0  2ife  of  ^Ifreti,  39 

It  is  true,  these  internal  indications  of  different 
authorship  could  hardly  have  been  regarded  if  we 
had  not  other  evidence ;  indeed,  as  it  is,  I  am  not 
aware  that  they  have  been  pointed  out  before  now ; 
but  they  are  worth  observing. 

There  is,  however,  a  further  means  of  testing  the 
accuracy  of  Asser's  text  which  we  have  not  yet 
mentioned.  Although  there  is  now  no  ancient 
manuscript  of  the  Life  of  Alfred  X.o  which  we  can 
appeal,  a  great  part  of  it  was  transcribed  word 
for  word  by  Florence  of  Worcester  in  the  twelfth 
century,  and  incorporated  with  other  materials  in 
his  chronicle.  And  Florence  of  Worcester  in  this 
place  not  only  omits  altogether  the  story  of  the 
cakes,  but  says  nothing  even  of  the  king  taking 
refuge  with  a  cowherd,  and  makes  no  allusion 
whatever  to  the  Life  of  St.  Neot,  from  which  that 
statement  is  derived.  Now,  as  we  have  shown 
already  that  the  allusion  to  the  Life  of  St.  Neot 
could  not  have  been  a  part  of  the  original  work,  it 
is  clear  that  in  this  particular  passage  the  text  of 
Asser  exists  in  a  less  corrupt  state  in  Florence  of 
Worcester  than  it  does,  or  even  than  it  did  in  the 
beginning  of  the  last  century,  in  any  manuscript 
of  the  Life  of  Alfred  itself 

Taking  this  incident,  therefore,  as  something 
undoubtedly  incorporated  with  the  biography  of 
Alfred  at  a  later  period,  it  shows  at  least  how 
tradition  loved  to  dwell  updn  his  memory  and  to 
preserve  anecdotes  of  him  which,  even  if  they  were 
to   some   extent   apocryphal,   were   still,  we   may 


40  lEarlj)  ©j^romclcrjs  of  lEngfanT). 

believe,  highly  characteristic  of  the  man  and  of  the 
days  in  which  he  lived.  Other  anecdotes,  scarcely 
less  graphic  and  interesting,  would  appear  to  be 
part  of  Asser's  genuine  work  ;  and  yet  in  some 
cases  they  are  rather  difficult  to  harmonise,  even 
with  the  facts  preserved  by  Asser  himself.  The 
following,  for  instance,  so  far  as  external  testimony 
goes,  would  seem  to  be  a  genuine  part  of  the  story 
written  by  the  bishop  who  was  Alfred's  contem- 
porary. After  relating  that  although  he  showed 
himself  precocious  from  his  cradle,  yet  "by  the 
unworthy  neglect  of  his  parents  and  nurses,"  the 
boy  remained  illiterate  till  he  was  twelve  years  old 
or  more ;  it  is  added  : — 

"  On  a  certain  day,  therefore,  his  mother  was  showing  him 
and  his  brother  a  Saxon  book  of  poetry,  which  she  held  in 
her  hands,  and  said,  *  Whichever  of  you  shall  the  soonest 
learn  this  volume,  shall  have  it  for  his  own.'  Stimulated  by 
these  words,  or  rather  by  the  Divine  inspiration,  and  allured 
by  the  beautifully  illuminated  letter  at  the  beginning  of  the 
volume,  he  spoke  before  all  his  brothers,  who,  though  his 
seniors  in  age,  were  not  so  in  grace,  and  answered  :  '  Will  you 
really  give  that  book  to  one  of  us,  that  is  to  say,  to  him  who 
can  first  understand  and  repeat  it  to  you  ? '  At  this  his 
mother  smiled  with  satisfaction,  and  confirmed  what  she  had 
before  said.  Upon  which  the  boy  took  the  book  out  of  her 
hand,  and  went  to  his  master  to  read  it,  and  in  due  time 
brought  it  to  his  mother  and  recited." 

This  is  an  anecdote  which,  it  must  be  universally 
felt,  one  would  not  like  to  lose.  But  just  in  pro- 
portion to  that  feeling  must  be  the  wish  to  under- 
stand and  appreciate  it.     From  what  goes  before 


a^^er'^  Uife  of  ^IfreD.  41 

we  should  naturally  presume  that  this  occurrence 
took  place  when  he  was  about  twelve  years  old ; 
more  especially  as  there  is  at  the  beginning  a 
"therefore,"  {ergo)  which  seems  to  connect  it  with 
preceding  statements.  But  Alfred's  mother,  As- 
burgha,  must  have  died  soon  after  the  year  853,  in 
which,  as  the  biography  itself  tells  us,  the  child 
was  sent  by  his  father  to  Rome  ;  and  at  that  date 
he  could  have  been  little  more  than  four  years  old. 
Some  are  therefore  led  to  the  belief  that  the 
"mother"  referred  to  was  his  stepmother,  Judith, 
daughter  of  Charles  the  Bald,  king  of  the  Franks ; 
but  apart  from  the  improbability  of  the  word  mater 
being  used  instead  of  iioverca,  it  is  suggested  as 
very  unlikely  that  this  foreign  princess,  who  was 
married  before  she  was  thirteen,  would  have  been 
at  much  pains  to  teach  Saxon  poetry  to  grown-up 
stepsons,  some  of  whom  were  probably  older  than 
herself  The  most  reasonable  view  seems  to  be 
that  Alfred's  real  mother  was  intended.  The 
passage  in  the  midst  of  which  the  anecdote  occurs 
is  a  digression  in  which  the  author  takes  leave  for 
a  time  of  the  political  history  derived  from  the 
Saxon  Chronicle,  in  order  to  tell,  as  he  himself 
says,  all  that  had  come  to  his  knowledge  touching 
the  great  king's  infancy  and  boyhood.  It  must 
also  be  understood  that,  although  the  Latin  of  the 
above  extract  might  be  so  construed,  this  story 
does  not  refer  to  Alfred's  learning  to  read  ;  for 
that  is  recorded  later,  and  the  date  at  which  he 
acquired  the  art  is  stated  to  have  been  the  thirty- 


42  ISarlg  ©|)romckr0  of  IcnglantJ. 

ninth  year  of  his  age.  The  anecdote  is  only  related 
as  an  early  manifestation  of  that  intelligence  and 
love  of  letters  of  which  he  gave  still  more  striking 
evidence  in  his  manhood  as  king  of  the  West 
Saxons  and  of  England. 

Farther  on  in  the  narrative  it  is  related  how  in 
those  days  he  invited  from  Mercia  four  eminent 
divines  and  scholars  :  Werefrith,  bishop  of  Wor- 
cester, who  at  his  command  translated  the 
Dialogues  of  Pope  Gregory  and  his  disciple  Peter 
into  English  ;  Plegmund,  whom  he  made  arch- 
bishop of  Canterbuiy ;  Ethelstan  and  Werewulf 
whom  he  made  his  priests  and  chaplains.  Not 
content  with  this,  he  sent  messengers  beyond  sea 
to  Gaul  and  invited  over  Grimbald,  "  priest  and 
monk,  a  venerable  man  and  good  singer,  adorned 
with  every  kind  of  ecclesiastical  discipline  and 
good  morals,  and  most  learned  in  Holy  Scripture  ; " 
also  John,  another  priest  and  monk,  who  is  de- 
scribed as  a  man  of  great  energy  and  learning, 
and  skilled  in  various  arts.  Such  men  he  en- 
riched and  promoted  to  great  honour.  So  also 
he  induced  the  author,  bishop  Asser  himself, 
to  make  his  abode  in  his  kingdom  instead  of 
Wales. 

"In  these  times  I  also,  at  the  king's  invitation,  came  into 
Saxony  out  of  the  furthest  coasts  of  Western  Britain  ;  and 
when  I  had  proposed  to  go  to  him  through  many  intervening 
provinces,  I  arrived  in  the  country  of  the  Saxons,  who  live 
on  the  right  hand,  which  in  Saxon  is  called  Sussex,  under  the 
guidance  of  some  of  that  nation  ;  and  there  I  first  saw  him 


^0^er*0  ZiU  of  SlUrftJ.  43 

in  the  royal  vill,  which  is  called  Dene.*  Pie  received  nrie 
with  kindness,  and  among  other  familiar  conversation,  he 
asked  me  eagerly  to  devote  myself  to  his  service,  and  become 
his  friend  ;  to  leave  everything  which  I  possessed  on  the  left, 
or  western,  bank  of  the  Severn,  and  he  promised  he  would 
give  more  than  an  equivalent  for  it  in  his  own  dominions. 
I  replied  that  I  could  not  incautiously  and  rashly  promise 
such  things  ;  for  it  seemed  to  me  unjust  that  I  should  leave 
those  sacred  places  in  which  I  had  been  bred,  educated,  and 
crowned,t  and  at  last  ordained,  for  the  sake  of  any  earthly 
honour  and  power,  unless  by  compulsion.  Upon  this  he  said, 
*  If  you  cannot  accede  to  this,  at  least  let  me  have  your  ser- 
vice in  part.  Spend  six  months  of  the  year  with  me  here, 
and  the  other  six  in  Britain.'  To  this  I  replied,  '  I  could  not 
even  promise  that,  easily  or  hastily,  without  the  advice  of  my 
friends.'  At  length,  however,  when  I  perceived  that  he  was 
anxious  for  my  services,  though  I  knew  not  why,  I  promised 
him  that,  if  my  life  was  spared,  I  would  return  to  him  after 
six  months,  with  such  a  reply  as  should  be  agreeable  to  him, 
as  well  as  advantageous  to  me  and  mine.  With  this  answer 
he  was  satisfied,  and  when  I  had  given  him  a  pledge  to  return 
at  the  appointed  time,  on  the  fourth  day  we  left  him  and 
returned  on  horseback  towards  our  own  country. 

"  After  our  departure  a  violent  fever  seized  me  in  the  city 
of  Winchester,  where  I  lay  for  twelve  months  and  one  week, 
night  and  day  without  hope  of  recovery.  At  the  appointed 
time,  therefore,  I  could  not  fulfil  my  promise  of  visiting  him, 
and  he  sent  messages  to  hasten  my  journey,  and  to  inquire 
the  cause  of  my  delay.  As  I  was  unable  to  ride  to  him, 
I  sent  a  second  message  to  tell  him  the  cause  of  my  delay, 
and  assure  him  that,  if  I  recovered  from  my  infirmity,  I 

♦  East  and  West  Dean  are  two  villages  near  Chichester.  There 
are  also  two  villages  so  named  near  Eastbourne,  one  of  which,  it 
has  been  thought,  may  be  the  place  in  question. 

t  This  expression  alludes  to  the  tonsure  which  was  undergone  by 
those  who  became  clerks.  The  crown  of  the  head  was  shaved, 
leaving  a  circle  of  hair  round  it. 


44  lEarlg  ©j^ronlclct^  of  lEnglanU. 

would  fulfil  what  I  had  promised.  My  complaint  left  me 
and  by  the  advice  and  consent  of  all  my  friends,  for  the 
benefit  of  that  holy  place,  and  of  all  who  dwelt  therein,  I  did 
as  I  had  promised  to  the  king,  and  devoted  myself  to  his 
service,  on  the  condition  that  I  should  remain  with  him  six 
months  in  every  year,  either  continuously,  if  I  could  spend 
six  months  with  him  at  once,  or  alternately,  three  months  in 
Britain,  and  three  in  Saxony." 

Afterwards  the  author  tells  us  how  he  was  in- 
duced by  the  king's  earnest  solicitation  to  stay  with 
him  eight  months  at  the  royal  vill  of  Leonaford — 

"  During  which  I  read  to  him  whatever  books  he  liked,  and 
such  as  he  had  at  hand  ;  for  this  is  his  most  usual  custom, 
both  night  and  day,  amid  his  many  other  occupations  of 
mind  and  body,  either  himself  to  read  books,  or  to  listen 
whilst  others  read  them." 

The  process  by  which  he  learned  to  read  himself 
may  be  described  a  little  more  briefly  than  in  the 
very  words  of  his  biographer.  One  day,  as  the 
king  and  Asser  were  sitting  together  talking  on 
various  subjects,  the  latter  read  to  him  a  quotation 
out  of  a  certain  book,  with  which  Alfred  was  so 
greatly  pleased,  that  he  desired  him  to  write  it 
down  in  a  book  which  he  took  out  of  his  bosom, 
containing  the  daily  services,  psalms,  and  prayers, 
that  he  had  been  accustomed  to  recite  in  his  youth. 
The  bishop  gave  thanks  inwardly  to  God,  who  had 
implanted  such  a  love  of  wisdom  in  the  king's 
heart,  but  could  find  no  vacant  space  in  the  book 
to  write  the  quotation  in.  He  therefore  asked  if 
the  king  would  like  him  to  write  the  quotation  on 
some  leaf  apart,  as  it  was  possible  that  other  say- 


<^^m*^  2ife  of  aifreti.  45 

ings  might  occur  to  him  hereafter  which  he  would 
like  preserved  in  the  same  way.  To  this  the  king 
willingly  assented.  Asser  accordingly  wrote  the 
quotation  on  a  clean  sheet,  and,  as  he  anticipated, 
was  desired  to  follow  it  up  by  three  other  quotations 
that  very  day,  so  that  the  sheet  soon  became  quite 
full.  "  Thus,"  says  his  biographer,  "  like  a  most 
industrious  bee,  he  flew  here  and  there,  asking 
questions  as  he  went,  until  he  had  eagerly  and  un- 
ceasingly collected  many  various  flowers  of  Divine 
Scriptures,  with  which  he  thickly  stored  the  cells  of 
his  mind."  From  the  time  that  the  first  quotation 
was  copied  he  was  at  once  eager  to  read,  to  translate 
it  into  Saxon,  and  to  teach  it  to  others.  He  began 
to  study  selections  from  the  sacred  writings,  and  to 
put  a  number  of  them  together  in  a  book  which  he 
called  his  Enchiridioiiy  or  Manual,  because  he  con- 
stantly kept  it  in  hand,  day  and  night. 

Thus  it  was  that  the  great  king  became  a  scholar. 
It  may  be  doubted  whether  more  than  two  or  three 
of  the  kings  of  England  after  him,  if  even  so  many, 
were  able  to  read  or  write  during  the  next  five 
hundred  years  or  more.  But  Alfred  not  only  set 
himself  to  learn  those  accomplishments,  but  he 
became  an  author,  and  translated  a  number  of 
valuable  works  from  the  Latin  into  his  native 
Anglo-Saxon,  among  others,  as  we  have  already 
mentioned,  the  Ecclesiastical  History  of  Bede. 

His  devoutness  in  dividing  his  revenues  equally 
between  the  service  of  God  and  secular  uses,  and 
the  methodical    manner   in  which   each   half  was 


46  Icadp  ©j^rouickr^  of  1£nglanU. 

divided  again,  and  apportioned  to  more  specific 
objects,  are  related  by  Asser  with  admiration.  But 
still  more  interesting  is  the  mode  in  which  he 
divided  his  time.  The  story,  indeed,  is  very  well 
known,  but  may  as  well  be  related  here  from  the 
original  authority : — 

"  He  promised,  as  far  as  his  infirmity  and  his  means  would 
allow,  to  give  up  to  God  the  half  of  his  services,  bodily  and 
mental,  by  night  and  by  day,  voluntarily  and  with  all  his 
might ;  but  inasmuch  as  he  could  not  equally  distinguish  the 
lengths  of  the  hours  by  night,  on  account  of  the  darkness, 
and  ofttimes  of  the  day,  on  account  of  the  storms  and  clouds, 
he  began  to  consider  by  what  means,  and  without  any  diffi- 
culty, relying  on  the  mercy  of  God,  he  might  discharge  the 
promised  tenor  of  his  vow  until  his  death.  After  long  re- 
flection on  these  things,  he  at  length,  by  a  useful  and  shrewd 
invention,  commanded  his  chaplains  to  supply  wax  in  a  suffi- 
cient quantity,  and  he  caused  it  to  be  weighed  in  such  a 
manner  that  when  there  was  so  much  of  it  in  the  scales  as 
would  equal  the  weight  of  seventy-two  pence,  he  caused  the 
chaplains  to  make  six  candles  thereof,  each  of  equal  length, 
so  that  each  candle  might  have  twelve  divisions  marked 
longitudinally  upon  it.  By  this  plan,  therefore,  those  six 
candles  burned  for  twenty-four  hours — a  night  and  a  day — 
without  fail,  before  the  sacred  relics  of  many  of  God's  elect, 
which  always  accompanied  him  wherever  he  went  ;  but  some- 
times, when  they  would  not  continue  burning  a  whole  day 
and  night  till  the  same  hour  that  they  were  lighted  the  pre- 
ceding evening,  from  the  violence  of  the  wind,  which  blew 
day  and  night  without  intermission  through  the  doors  and 
windows  of  the  churches,  the  fissures  of  the  divisions,  the 
plankings,  or  the  wall,  or  the  thin  canvas  of  the  tents,  they 
then  unavoidably  burned  out,  and  finished  their  course  before 
toe  appointed  time.  The  king,  therefore,  considered  by  what 
means  he  might  shut  out  the  wind  :  and  so,  by  a  useful  and 


^^m*^  Sifc  of  ^IfreU  47 

cunning  invention,  he  ordered  a  lantern  to  be  beautifully  con- 
structed of  wood  and  white  oxhorn,  which,  when  skilfully 
planed  till  it  is  thin,  is  no  less  transparent  than  a  vessel  of 
glass.  This  lantern,  therefore,  was  wonderfully  made  of  wood 
and  horn,  as  we  before  said,  and  by  night  a  candle  was  put 
into  it,  which  shone  as  brightly  without  as  within,  and  was 
not  extinguished  by  the  wind  ;  for  the  opening  of  the  lantern 
was  also  closed  up,  according  to  the  king's  command,  by  a 
door  made  of  horn.  By  this  contrivance,  then,  six  candles, 
lighted  in  succession,  lasted  four  and  twenty  hours,  neither 
more  nor  less,  and  when  these  were  extinguished,  others  were 
lighted." 

Here  we  must  close  our  notice  of  Asser,  and  of 
historians  prior  to  the  Norman  Conquest.  It  will 
be  observed  that  we  have  laid  before  the  reader 
three  remarkable  writers,  each  characteristic  of  his 
time — writers  of  very  unequal  greatness,  it  is  true, 
but  all  alike  necessary  to  be  studied  in  connection 
with  their  respective  eras.  Even  in  their  very 
nationality  and  surroundings  they  mark  the  state 
of  civilization  each  had  before  him,  and  who  were 
the  favoured  people  of  the  day.  The  first  is  a 
Briton,  the  second  a  northern  Englishman,  the 
third  a  Briton  again,  but  living  at  the  court  of  a 
southern  Englishman,  the  first  king  of  a  united 
England.  In  the  first,  we  have  a  native  writer 
mourning  over  the  destruction  of  his  country,  the 
decay  of  Christianity,  and  the  advance  made  by 
a  barbarous  pagan  enemy,  who  lay  between  his 
countrymen  and  the  civilization  of  Europe.  In  the 
second,  we  find  a  descendant  of  the  invaders,  who 
by  this  time  have  become   Christian,   telling  the 


48 


lEarlg  Cr(ronkUr0  ot  lEnglanD. 


glad  story  of  the  conversion  of  his  ancestors,  and 
the  spread  of  true  religion  among^is  people.  In 
the  time  of  the  third  writer,  Britons  and  Englishmen 
have  become  friends,  and  unite  in  Christian  sym- 
pathy against  a  new  pagan  invader  —  the  Dane. 
Such  was  the  conflict  of  races  in  our  island,  and 
such  the  struggle  Christianity  and  civilization  had 
to  pass  through  before  the  Norman  Conquest. 


CHAPTER  II. 


RECORDS  OF  THE  MONKS. 


The  Anglo-Saxon  C/^wwi:/^— Influence  of  the  Norman  Conquest — 
Chronicle  of  Battle  Abbey — How  monasteries  fostered  literature 
and  civilization — Florence  of  Worcester— Eadmer — His  account 
of  St.  Anselm — William  of  Malmesbury — Extracts  touching  the 
effect  of  the  Conquest — The  First  Crusade — Robert  of  Normandy 
and  Henry  I. — The  Gesta  Stephani — Early  report  of  a  debate  in 
the  king's  council — Extract  touching  Bristol  and  Bath — The 
Empress  Maud — Henry  of  Huntingdon — Ordericus  Vitalis. 

It -must  be  owned  that  the  art  of  writing  history 
languished  after  the  days  of  Bede.  For  about 
four  centuries  England  scarcely  produced  any  one 
deserving  the  name  of  a  historian.  Yet  during 
that  very  period  one  remarkable  record  was  pre- 
served in  the  vernacular  language,  of  all  the  im- 
portant events  from  year  to  year ;  and  though  for 
the  most  part  only  a  mere  register  of  facts,  it  is 
impossible  to  pass  over  in  silence  such  a  great 
literary  monument  as  the  Aiiglo-Saxon  Chronicle, 
Originated,  as  some  believe,  by  King  Alfred,  and 
certainly  existing  in  his  day,  as  indeed  we  have 
ENG.  E 


50  ^atlg  &i)xom\tx%  oC  langlanl). 

had  occasion  to  see  already,*  it  was  continued 
from  age  to  age  by  various  hands  till  after  the 
death  of  Stephen.  The  mere  language  of  the 
different  manuscripts  affords  an  interesting  study 
to  the  philologist,  the  variations  of  the  dialect  in 
different  parts  bearing  witness  to  different  degrees 
of  antiquity  in  the  composition,  and  the  existence 
of  concurrent  texts  in  several  places  show  that  it 
was  transcribed  and  added  to  by  different  and 
independent  writers.  The  existing  manuscripts 
also  come  to  an  end  at  very  different  dates,  and 
special  circumstances  contained  in  particular  texts 
seem  occasionally  to  indicate  the  monastery  in 
which  a  particular  edition  was  composed. 

Beginning  with  a  description  of  the  island  of 
Britain,  and  the  races  by  whom  it  was  originally  in- 
habited, which  is  simply  an  abridgment  of  Bede's 
introductory  chapter,  followed  by  a  brief  notice  of 
the  conquest  by  Julius  Caesar,  the  text  consists  for 
some  time  of  a  mere  chronology  of  Roman  and 
Church  history.  The  narrative  becomes  more 
minute  in  the  ninth  century,  when  it  records  the 
incursions  of  the  Danes,  especially  during  the  time 
of  Alfred  ;  and  the  close  agreement  of  all  but  one 
of  the  existing  manuscripts  for  the  period  of  his 
life  has  been  noted  as  a  strong  presumption  in 
favour  of  the  belief  that  it  was  by  Alfred's  order 
the  chronicle  was  originally  compiled.  After  the 
date  of  his  death  the  variations  in  the  text  of  the 
different   manuscripts  become  more  frequent,  and 

♦  See  p.  32. 


Zfft  <^axon  ©i^romcle.  51 


more  material.  The  style,  too,  varies  here  and  there 
from  the  old  type.  The  victories  of  Athelstan  over 
the  Scots  are  recorded  in  verse  ;  and  also  the  deeds 
of  King  Edmund,  King  Edgar,  the  martyrdom  of 
King  Edward,  the  death  of  Edward  the  Confessor, 
and  some  other  matters.  But,  on  the  whole,  it 
must  be  confessed  that  the  contents  of  this  chronicle 
are  very  matter  of  fact ;  and  while  the  study  of 
it  is  indispensable  to  the  historian,  it  can  scarcely 
be  recommended  as  generally  attractive  reading. 
Nevertheless  there  are  passages  in  the  latter  part 
which  possess  not  a  little  graphic  interest  ;  as,  for 
example,  the  following  description  of  William  the 
Conqueror,  written,  as  the  extract  shows,  by  one 
who  knew  him  personally  : — 

"If  any  would  know  what  manner  of  man  King  William 
was,  the  glory  that  he  obtained,  and  of  how  many  lands  he  was 
lord,  then  will  we  describe  him  as  we  have  known  him,  we, 
who  have  looked  upon  him,  and  who  once  lived  in  his  court. 
This  King  William, of  whom  we  are  speaking,  was  a  very  wise 
and  a  great  man,  and  more  honoured  and  more  powerful  than 
any  of  his  predecessors.  He  was  mild  to  those  good  men  who 
loved  God,  but  severe  beyond  measure  towards  those  who 
withstood  his  will.  He  founded  a  noble  monastery  on  the  spot 
where  God  permitted  him  to  conquer  England,  and  he 
established  monks  in  it,  and  he  made  it  very  rich.  In  his 
days  the  great  monastery  at  Canterbury  was  built,  and  many 
others  also  throughout  England  ;  moreover,  this  land  was 
filled  with  monks,  who  hved  after  the  rule  of  St.  Benedict ; 
and  such  was  the  state  of  religion  in  his  days,  that  all  that 
would,  might  observe  that  which  was  prescribed  by  their 
respective  orders.  King  William  was  also  held  in  much 
leverence  :  he  wore  his  crown  three  times  a  year,  when  he 


52  lEarls  ©^romclcr^  of  lEnglanU. 

was  in  England :  at  Easter  he  wore  it  at  Winchester,  at 
Pentecost  at  Westminster,  and  at  Christmas  at  Gloucester. 
And  at  these  times,  all  the  men  of  England  were  with  him, 
archbishops,  bishops,  abbots  and  earls,  thanes  and  knights. 
So  also  was  he  a  very  stern  and  a  wrathful  man,  so  that 
none  durst  do  anything  against  his  will,  and  he  kept  in 
prison  those  earls  who  acted  against  his  pleasure.  He  re- 
moved bishops  from  their  sees,  and  abbots  from  their  offices, 
and  he  imprisoned  thanes,  and  at  length  he  spared  not  his 
own  brother  Odo.  This  Odo  was  a  very  powerful  bishop 
in  Normandy,  his  see  was  that  of  Bayeux,  and  he  was  fore- 
most to  serve  the  king.  He  had  an  earldom  in  England, 
and  when  William  was  in  Normandy,  he  was  the  first  man 
in  this  country,  and  him  did  he  cast  into  prison.  Amongst 
other  things  the  good  order  that  William  established  is  not 
to  be  forgotten  ;  it  was  such  that  any  man  who  was  himself 
aught,  might  travel  over  the  kingdom  with  a  bosom-full  of  gold 
unmolested  ;  and  no  man  durst  kill  another,  however  great 
the  injury  he  might  have  received  from  him.  He  reigned 
over  England,  and  being  sharp-sighted  to  his  own  interest,  he 
surveyed  the  kingdom  so  thoroughly  that  there  was  not  a 
single  hide  of  land  throughout  the  whole  of  which  he  knew 
not  the  possessor,  and  how  much  it  was  worth,  and  this  he 
afterwards  entered  in  his  register.*  The  land  of  the  Britons 
{i.e.  Wales)  was  under  his  sway,  and  he  built  castles  therein  ; 
moreover  he  had  full  dominion  over  the  Isle  of  Man  (Angle- 
sea).  Scotland  also  was  subject  to  him,  from  his  great 
strength  ;  the  land  of  Normandy  was  his  by  inheritance,  and 
he  possessed  the  earldom  of  Maine  ;  and  had  he  lived  two 
years  longer  he  would  have  subdued  Ireland  by  his  powers, 
and  that  without  a  battle.  Truly,  there  was  much  trouble 
in  these  times,  and  very  great  distress  ;  he  caused  castles  to 
be  built,  and  oppressed  the  poor.  The  king  was  also  of  great 
sternness,  and  he  took  from  his  subjects  many  marks  of  gold, 
and  many  hundred  pounds  of  silver,  and  this  either  with  or 
without  right,  and  with  httle  need.     He  was  given  to  avarice, 

•  This  of  course  is  the  celebrated  Domesday  Book. 


and  greedily  loved  gain.  He  made  large  forests  for  the  deer, 
and  enacted  laws  therewith,  so  that  whoever  killed  a  hart  or 
a  hind  should  be  bhnded.  As  he  forbade  killing  the  deer 
so  also  the  boars  ;  and  he  loved  the  tall  stags  as  if  he  were 
their  father.  He  also  appointed  concerning  the  hares  that 
they  should  go  free.  The  rich  complained,  and  the  poor 
murmured,  but  he  was  so  sturdy  that  he  recked  nought  of 
them  ;  they  must  will  all  that  the  king  willed,  if  they  would 
live,  or  would  keep  their  lands,  or  would  hold  their  posses- 
sions, or  would  be  maintained  in  their  rights.  Alas  !  that 
any  man  should  so  exalt  himself,  and  carry  himself  in  his 
pride  over  all  !  May  Almighty  God  show  mercy  to  his  soul, 
and  grant  him  the  forgivness  of  his  sins.  We  have  written 
concerning  him  these  things,  good  and  bad,  that  virtuous 
men  might  follow  after  the  good  and  wholly  avoid  the  evil, 
and  might  go  in  the  way  that  leadeth  to  the  kingdom  of 
heaven." 

From  one  passage  in  this  extract  it  will  be  noted 
that  the  Norman  Conquest  gave  a  considerable 
impulse  to  the  spread  of  monasticism  in  England. 
It  was  politic  in  a  king  who  desired  to  enforce  order 
and  obedience  to  his  own  rule,  to  encourage  the 
establishment  of  communities  which  afforded  a  con- 
spicuous example  of  discipline  submitted  to  by  the 
general  consent  of  the  members.  But  William  did 
something  more  than  encourage  them.  He  himself 
founded  the  magnificent  abbey  of  Battle  on  the 
scene  of  his  great  victory  at  Hastings ;  and  a 
chronicle  composed  within  the  monastery  itself 
shows  the  remarkable  interest  he  took  both  in  the 
original  foundation  and  in  its  subsequent  progress. 
A  few  extracts  from  the  substance  of  this  chronicle 
will  exemplify  his  feeling  on  the  subject. 

William,  it  seems,  had  prosecuted  his  enterprise 


54  lEarlg  CTJbroniclcrjS  of  IcnglanD, 

in  spite  of  evil  omens.  On  jumping  ashore  at 
Hastings  he  fell  upon  his  face,  grasping  the  earth 
with  outstretched  hands  and  making  his  nose  bleed. 
His  followers  whispered  to  each  other  their  appre- 
hensions. But  the  witty  William  Fitz  Osbert,  his 
faithful  sewer,  met  their  objections  with  a  clever 
argument.  "  By  my  troth,"  he  said,  "  it  is  a  token 
of  prosperity,  not  of  misfortune ;  for,  lo !  he  hath 
embraced  England  with  both  his  hands  and  sealed 
it  to  posterity  with  his  own  blood  ;  and  thus  by  the 
foreboding  of  divine  Providence  is  he  destined  effec- 
tually to  win  it!"  His  followers  were  equally  dis- 
mayed before  the  battle  of  Hastings  itself  when,  as 
they  were  helping  each  other  on  with  their  armour, 
some  one  handed  to  Duke  William  a  coat  of  mail, 
with  the  wrong  side  foremost.  The  Duke,  however, 
quietly  put  it  on  ;  said  if  he  had  any  confidence  in 
omens  or  sorcery  he  would  not  that  day  go  to 
battle,  but  trusting  himself  only  to  his  Creator,  and 
to  encourage  his  followers,  he  made  a  vow  that  if 
victorious  he  would  erect  a  monastery  on  the  field  of 
battle  for  the  salvation  of  those  who  fought  by  his 
side,  and  especially  of  those  who  fell.  Among  those 
who  heard  the  vow  was  one  William,  surnamed  Faber, 
or  the  Smith,  a  monk  of  Marmoutier  in  Normandy, 
— so  called  because  he  had  distinguished  himself  in 
days  before  he  was  a  monk,  by  manufacturing  an 
arrow  at  an  emergency  when  he  was  one  of  a  hunt- 
ing party  ;  and  after  the  victory,  as  time  passed 
away,  and  the  king  was  continually  occupied  with 
other  matters,  William  the  Smith  still  kept  the 


€^5rotticle  of  915attU  '^W^*  55 

subject  before  him  until  steps  were  taken  to  execute 
the  design.  At  length  William  the  Smith  himself 
was  entrusted  with  its  execution.  He  went  over  to 
Marmoutier  and  brought  back  with  him  four  monks 
of  that  abbey  to  view  the  ground  and  make  a  com- 
mencement. The  four  monks  thought  the  battle- 
field itself  unsuitable.  The  ground  was  too  high. 
A  little  lower  on  the  western  slope  of  the  hill  would 
be  a  more  convenient  site ;  and  there  accordingly 
they  built  some  little  dwellings.  But  the  king, 
inquiring  about  what  they  had  done,  was  dissatisfied. 
The  monks  told  him  the  site  he  had  prescribed  was 
on  the  top-  of  a  hill  on  a  dry  soil,  and  destitute  of 
water.  William  was  angry  and  insisted  that  they 
should  build  upon  the  very  place  where  he  had 
gained  the  victory.  "  As  for  water,"  he  said,  "  if  God 
spare  my  life  I  will  so  amply  provide  for  this  place 
that  wine  shall  be  more  abundant  here  than  water  in 
any  other  great  abbey  !"  The  monks  then  alleged 
that  no  good  stone  could  be  found  near  about ;  but 
William,  at  his  own  expense,  sent  ships  to  Caen  to 
bring  it.  After  a  good  deal  of  stone  had  been 
imported,  however,  it  was  revealed — so  went  the 
story — "to  a  certain  relfgious  matron  that,  upon 
digging  in  the  place  indicated  to  her  in  a  vision, 
they  would  find  plenty  of  stone  for  this  purpose ;" 
and  on  search  being  made  accordingly  an  abundant 
supply  was  discovered. 

The  work  still  went  on  slowly  "  on  account  of 
some  extortioners  who  sought  their  own  things 
rather  than  those  of  Jesus  Christ,  and  laboured 


56  lEatlg  ©^roniclerjJ  of  lEnglanl). 

more  in  appearance  than  in  truth.  The  brethren 
too,  were  lukewarm,  and  built  within  the  intended 
circuit  of  the  monastery  mean  dwellings  of  little 
cost,  for  their  own  residence.  And  thus  by  an  evil 
example  at  first,  things  were  put  off  from  day  to 
day,  and  the  royal  treasures  allotted  for  the  further- 
ance of  the  undertaking  were  improperly  spent,  and 
many  things  conferred  upon  the  place  by  the  king's 
devout  liberality  carelessly  squandered."  An  abbot 
was  appointed  who  was  accidentally  drowned  ;  but 
a  successor  was  chosen  in  his  place,  under  whom 
both  the  buildings  and  the  number  of  the  brethren 
increased.  This  abbot,  by  name  Gausbert,  was  con- 
secrated in  the  year  1076,  just  ten  years  after  the 
battle,  by  Stigand,  bishop  of  Chichester.  The  bishop 
at  first  insisted  that  the  new  abbot  should  come  to 
Chichester  and  have  the  rite  performed  there ;  but 
the  abbot  went  to  the  king,  who,  zealous  for  the 
honour  of  the  monastery  he  himself  had  founded, 
insisted  that  the  bishop  should  go  to  Battle,  and 
consecrate  him  in  the  abbey  church  itself.  Even 
so,  when  abbot  Gausbert  some  time  aftenvards  paid 
a  visit  for  devotion's  sake  to  the  parent  monastery 
of  Marmoutier  where  he  himself  had  been  a  monk, 
the  abbot  and  convent  of  that  monastery  seized  the 
opportunity  to  establish  their  superiority  over  Battle. 

"  They  endeavoured  to  cause  the  abbot  to  receive  ordina- 
tion in  their  chapter-house,  and  thenceforward  to  compel  him 
to  go  thither  as  often  as  they  should  summon  him.  But 
Gausbert  perceived  their  design,  and  when,  after  his  return 
to  England,  he  was  repeatedly  summoned  to  Marmoutier, 


©j^rotticlc  of  l^attle  'BJbht]^.  57 

refused  to  comply,  but  repaired  to  court  and  complained  to 
the  king.  Whereupon  the  king  was  angry,  and  ordered  all 
the  monks  of  Marmoutier  who  were  with  him  to  be  sent 
away.  He  even  threatened  the  abbot  himself:  'By  the 
splendour  of  God  !'  said  he — for  that  was  his  accustomed 
oath — *  if  you  cross  the  sea  for  such  an  object,  or  if  you  evei 
go  thither  again,  you  shall  never  return  to  England  to  take 
charge  of  my  abbey.'  The  abbot  obeyed,  and  thus  quieted 
all  claims  of  this  kind,  and  the  king  confirmed  the  abbey  of 
Battle  in  its  freedom  from  all  subjection  to  Marmoutier  for 
ever." 

From  passages  like  these  we  can  form  a  pretty 
good  idea  how  even  within  the  walls  of  monasteries 
the  influence  of  the  Conqueror  was  felt  in  the  en- 
forcement of  discipline  and  order.      Monasticism 
under  the  Saxon  rule  was  always  showing  symp- 
toms of  decay.     In  the  north  of  England  it  had 
reached  its  highest  state  of  development   in   the 
eighth  century.     The  foundation  of  Whitby  abbey 
by  St.  Hilda,  and  of  the  two  monasteries  of  Wear- 
mouth   and    Jarrow,   in  Durham,   in  the  latter  of 
which  Bede  ended    his    days,   had   rendered   con- 
spicuous service  both  to  literature  and  to  devotion. 
Both  high  and  low  took  refuge  from  the  world  in 
these  seclusions.     St.  Hilda  was  herself  of  royal 
blood ;  and  soon  after  the  death  of  Bede  even  the 
king  of  Northumbria,  to  whom  he  had  dedicated 
his  history,  abdicated  the  throne  to  assume  the 
cowl  at  Lindisfarne.     Another  revival  took  place  in 
the  south  of  England  under  St.  Dunstan,  in  the 
tenth   century,   seconded   by   the   efforts   of  King 
Edgar  and   of  Ethelwold   bishop   of  Winchester. 


58  Icarlg  Qtf}xom\tx^  of  ?Englant). 

But  with  all  this  the  number  of  Saxon  monasteries 
was  small,  and  religious  discipline  had  very  much 
declined  before  the  invasion  of  the  Normans. 

Yet  it  was  in  these  retreats  that  all  the  litera- 
ture the  age  possessed  was  written,  preserved,  and 
handed  down  to  posterity.  Literature,  indeed,  was 
but  one  of  several  industries  continually  practised 
by  those  communities ;  for  it  was  only  by  small 
societies  living  in  seclusion  that  the  arts  of  peace 
and  civilization  could  make  any  progress  in  days  of 
violence  and  barbarism.  Hard  labour  was  the  essen- 
tial principle  of  their  discipline  ;  nor  would  it  have 
been  possible  for  the  young  communities  to  subsist 
without  it.  Each  brother  had  his  appointed  work, 
whether  it  were  in  the  field,  in  the  garden,  in  the 
kitchen,  or  in  the  library.  The  very  buildings  of 
the  monasteiy  were  the  work  of  the  monks'  own 
hands  ;  nor  was  there  any  kind  of  drudgery  needful 
to  the  general  weal  that  was  held  in  disrepute. 
The  "dignity  of  labour"  did  not  require  to  be 
vindicated  to  men  who  felt  its  holiness.  The  archi- 
tect and  the  mason  were  not  divided ;  and  we  have 
it  on  record  that  St.  Hugh,  bishop  of  Lincoln, 
carried  a  hod,  and  laboured  with  his  own  hands  at 
the  building  of  his  own  cathedral. 

Among  our  Anglo-Saxon  ancestors,  although 
discipline  had  relaxed  considerably  before  the 
conquest,  these  institutions  had  still  produced  very 
important  and  salutary  effects.  It  has  been  re- 
marked that  among  them,  as  among  the  original 
German   races   described   by   Tacitus,   agriculture 


EaBour^  of  i\)(  M^nH*  59 

was  in  disrepute,  or  at  least  very  generally 
neglected.  The  Saxon  laws  contain  numerous 
provisions  as  regards  cattle  and  pasturage,  but 
comparatively  few  that  relate  to  the  enclosure  and 
cultivation  of  land,  or  the  disposal  of  its  produce. 
But  in  every  monastery  the  land  was  the  principal 
care.  Each  day  after  the  service  of  prime  the 
monks  assembled  in  their  chapter-house,  and  the 
prior  assigned  to  each  his  particular  labour  for  the 
day.  A  few  prayers  were  offered  to  ask  a  blessing 
on  their  work,  and  the  brethren  marched,  two  and 
two,  in  silence  to  their  allotted  task  in  the  fields. 

"  From  Easter  till  the  beginning  of  October  they  were  thus 
occupied,  from  six  o'clock  in  the  morning,  in  some  instances 
until  ten,  in  others  until  noon,  the  duration  of  the  labour 
being  probably  modified  according  to  the  locality  of  the 
monastery,  or  the  nature  of  the  occupation.  The  more  widely 
the  system  was  diffused,  the  more  extensive  were  its  benefits. 
In  addition  to  the  monks,  lay  brethren  and  servants  were 
employed  in  considerable  numbers,  and  as  these  received 
payment  in  corn,  their  services  in  turn  demanded  the  culti- 
vation of  an  increased  extent  of  arable  land.  When  the 
quantity  thus  broken  up  and  brought  into  tillage  so  far 
exceeded  the  immediate  requirements  of  the  monastery  as  to 
permit  some  portion  of  it  to  be  leased  out,  payment  of  rent 
was  made  rather  in  labour  and  in  produce  than  in  money ; 
and  numerous  privileges  of  various  kinds  were  granted  upon 
the  same  conditions.  Thus  each  monastery  became  the 
central  point  of  civilization."  * 

As  to  literary  labour,  that  was  only,  like  every 
other  industry,  a  great  means  of  avoiding  idleness, 

*  I  have  quoted  these  remarks  from  Mr.  Stevenson's  preface  to 
the  second  volume  of  his  Chronicle  of  Abingdon ^  pp.  xiv. — xvi. 


6o  lEarlg  &\^tonicUx^  of  'Englanti. 

beneficial  to  the  souls  of  those  who  practised  it  as 
done  for  the  benefit  of  others.  Some  discernment, 
indeed,  was  used  in  the  allotment  of  functions  ;  but 
any  monk  might,  at  his  abbot's  desire,  be  called 
upon  for  a  time  to  work  with  the  pen  instead  of 
with  the  spade  or  the  implements  of  cookery.  For 
monks  as  a  rule  were  taught  to  write,  but  no  one 
was  allowed  to  do  so  without  the  permission  of  his 
abbot.  All  the  transcribing,  and  all  the  original 
composition,  done  in  the  monastery,  was  done  in 
the  scriptorium,  or  writing  chamber,  by  command  of 
the  abbot  and  during  the  hours  of  daylight.  No 
one  could  enter  or  leave  that  chamber  without 
permission  ;  and  no  one  was  allowed  to  execute 
any  other  work  than  the  specific  task  assigned  to 
him.  Strict  silence  was  observed  in  that  place  of 
study,  and  when  it  was  necessary  to  communicate 
with  the  arniariiis,  or  librarian,  the  message  was 
conveyed  by  signs.  If  the  accuracy  of  a  transcript 
was  to  be  tested  by  reading  aloud,  the  work  was 
done  in  an  adjoining  chamber. 

There  was  also  a  methodical  division  of  labour. 
The  armarius  portioned  out  the  work  by  the 
abbot's  order ;  and  the  writers  who  had  charge  of 
the  text  left  spaces  for  rubrics,  ornamented  capitals, 
vignettes  and  other  illustrations,  which  were  after- 
wards filled  in  by  other  hands.  The  ar^naritis 
bound  up  the  books,  when  completed,  in  wooden 
covers,  inspected  the  whole  library  two  or  three 
times  a  year,  repaired  injured  volumes,  and  took 
care   that   they   were   all   properly  classified   and 


3£aBouri3  of  tj^c  i^onlt^,  6i 

marked  with  their  proper  titles.  He  provided  the 
transcribers  with  parchment,  ink,  pens,  penknives, 
chalk,  pumice-stone  for  rubbing  the  parchment, 
knives  to  cut  it  with,  awls  to  mark  the  lines,  a 
ruler  and  a  plummet,  which  he  himself  also  used 
to  note  omissions  in  the  margin,  and  a  weight  to 
keep  down  the  vellum.  He  also  made  contracts 
with  hired  transcribers  who  were  occasionally  en- 
gaged to  work  outside  the  monastery. 

"The  chief  work  done  in  the  scriptorium^''  says  Sir 
Thomas  Hardy,*  to  whose  researches  we  are  indebted  for 
the  information  we  have  just  been  communicating,  ^'  was  the 
transcribing  of  missals  and  other  service  books,  not  only  for 
the  use  of  the  house  to  which  it  appertained,  but  for  that  of 
smaller  religious  houses  not  sufficiently  wealthy  to  maintain 
a  scriptoriufn.  If  the  writers  were  not  employed  on  any 
special  work,  and  a  large  number  of  copies  of  some  popular 
treatise  was  required,  a  skilful  transcriber,  well  versed  in  that 
particular  subject,  read  aloud,  whilst  the  rest  copied  from  his 
dictation.  To  this  practice  may  be  attributed  the  great 
variety  of  orthography  observable  in  manuscripts  written  at 
the  same  time  and  even  in  the  same  house.  Great  pains 
were  taken  in  copying  the  classics,  the  Latin  fathers,  and  all 
books  of  scholastic  learning  ;  but  comparatively  little  labour 
seems  to  have  been  bestowed  on  the  execution  of  books 
relating  to  national  or  monastic  histoiy,  unless  they  were  in- 
tended for  presents." 

It  was  only  in  monasteries  that  literature  could 
then  be  produced,  and  the  value  of  these  institu- 
tions in  preserving  records  of  the  principal  occur- 
rences must  have  been  recognized  at  a  very  early 

*  Descriptive  Catalogue  of  Materials  relating  to  the  History  of 
Great  Britain  and  Ireland,  vol.  iii.,  preface  xviii. 


62  lEarlp  Q!^\)xomtUx^  of  lEnglan^. 

period.  John  Fordun,  a  late  fourteenth  century- 
writer,  is  the  earliest  authority  for  a  statement  that 
has  been  disputed  by  some — that  special  persons 
were  appointed  in  the  greater  abbeys  to  note  events 
and  digest  them  into  annals  at  the  end  of  every 
year.  But  there  is  ample  evidence  that  in  the  days 
of  our  early  kings  the  monasteries,  especially  those 
of  royal  foundation,  were  regarded  as  treasure- 
houses  of  important  facts  and  sometimes  enjoined 
to  preserve  among  their  own  records  public  docu- 
ments of  high  significance.  An  exemplification 
of  the  Charter  of  Liberties  granted  by  Henry  I. 
was  sent  to  each  of  the  principal  abbeys  through- 
out the  country.  So  also  was  the  Magna  Charta 
of  King  John,  which  was  never  recorded  in  the 
King's  Chancery.  So  Edward  I.  in  1291,  sent 
orders  by  writ  of  privy  seal  to  various  monasteries 
to  search  their  chronicles  and  other  records  for 
evidence  as  to  the  vassalage  of  Scotland  ;  and 
when  the  sovereignty  of  that  country  was  after- 
wards claimed  by  the  pope,  he  on  summoning  the 
parliament  at  Lincoln  in  1 301,  again  ordered 
similar  investigations  to  be  made,  and  commanded 
the  information  found  to  be  transmitted  to  himself 
at  the  parliament.  But  the  most  distinct  evidence 
of  the  truth  of  Fordun's  statement  is  found  in  the 
fact  that  the  historian  Matthew  Paris  in  the  year 
1247,  three  years  before  the  completion  of  his 
Flores  Historiaruniy  being  present  by  the  king's 
command  at  a  celebration  of  the  feast  of  Edward 
the  Confessor,  was  ordered  to  take  his  seat  on  the 


JFtorence  of  Wioxct^cx,  6;^ 

middle  step  between  the  throne  and  the  area  of 
the  hall,  and  to  write  a  full  account  of  the  pro- 
ceedings that  the  facts  might  always  stand  on 
record.  It  is  clear,  therefore,  that  Matthew  Paris 
was  distinctly  acknowledged  as  the  historiographer 
of  St.  Alban's  monastery,  long  before  the  comple- 
tion of  his  history.* 

It  was  in  monasteries,  then,  that  past  acts  were 
committed  to  writing ;  and  for  a  long  time  after 
the  days  of  Bede,  they  were  recorded  in  annals  the 
most  bald,  dry,  and  matter-of-fact  that  could  well 
be  imagined.  Even  after  the  conquest  there  was 
no  immediate  change  in  the  form  of  these  compo- 
sitions, nor  even  is  their  number  very  much 
augmented  ;  for  besides  the  A7iglo-Saxo7t  Chronicle 
itself  there  is  really  but  one  native  source  of  infor- 
mation to  be  met  with  for  a  long  time ;  and 
that  is  a  writer  in  the  monastery  of  Worcester, 
commonly  called  Florence  of  Worcester,  who  is 
believed  to  have  translated  largely  from  some  copy 
of  the  Anglo-Savon  Chronicle  not  now  extant. 

The  work  of  Florence,  however,  deserves  men- 
tion as  the  earliest  example  in  this  country  of  a 
kind  of  composition  of  which  there  are  many  in 
later  times, — a  universal  chronicle  beginning  with 
the  creation  of  the  world,  and  embracing,  in  due 
sequence,  the  history  of  all  nations  both  ancient 
and  modern.  In  recent  editions  of  Florence  of 
Worcester,  all  the  earlier  portion  of  the  work  has 

been  omitted  as  containing  nothing  of  value  to  the 

i-_i 

•  Hardy's  Catalogue  iii.,  preface  xviii.,  xx. 


64  ^arig  Cjfjron{cUr0  of  ^nglanD. 


modern  inquirer,  and  indeed  nothing  specially 
characteristic  of  the  author.  The  universal  chronicle, 
in  fact,  was  not  composed  by  Florence  himself, 
but  was  taken  from  that  of  Marianus  Scotus,  an 
Irishman,  who  spent  the  latter  half  of  his  life 
abroad  and  died  at  Mayence  about  the  year  1082. 
This  work  Florence  adopted  as  his  basis  and  ampli- 
fied in  the  latter  part  with  a  large  number  of 
notices  of  English  affairs,  about  which  Marianus  is 
almost  entirely  silent  So  numerous,  indeed,  are 
these  interpolations  that  from  the  date  of  the 
coming  of  the  Saxons  into  England  we  almost  lose 
sight  of  foreign  affairs,  and  of  the  text  of  Marianus 
altogether.  Yet  the  style  is  still  the  same  as  that 
of  the  Saxojt  Chronicle^ — plain,  clear,  dry,  and 
matter-of-fact,  without  either  oratorical  embellish- 
ment or  warmth  of  declamation.  The  text,  in  fact, 
for  a  long  period,  is  little  more  than  a  translation 
of  that  Chro7iicle,  incorporating  also  Asser's  Life 
of  Alfred ;  and  how  much  is  really  original  on  the 
part  of  Florence  himself  it  is  difficult  to  say.  The 
Chronicle  is  a  most  valuable  store  of  facts,  but  it  is 
nothing  more.  Two  continuations,  added  to  it  by 
other  hands,  bring  down  the  history  to  the  days  of 
Edward  I.,  and  are  on  the  whole  somewhat  mo»-e 
interesting  than  the  original  work. 

The  latest  manuscript  of  the  Saxon  Chronicky 
breaks  off  abruptly  just  after  the  accession  of 
Henry  I.  It  would  seem,  therefore,  that  the  new 
literary  influences  at  the  court  of  Henry  Beauclerc 
at  once  extinguished  a  mode  of  recording  events 


lEatimct.  65 


which  was  no  longer  necessary.  A  real  Anglo- 
Saxon  literature  could  not  long  survive  the  exist- 
ence of  the  Anglo-Saxon  kingdom.  After  the 
conquest  it  became  more  and  more  of  an  anachro- 
nism. For  a  time  the  facts  were  recorded  as 
before  in  what  was  still  the  language  of  the  people  ; 
but  the  increased  communication  with  the  conti- 
nent, and  with  continental  scholars  in  days  when 
every  one  who  could  read  at  all  must  have  been 
able  to  read  Latin,  made  it  ultimately  impossible 
to  continue  the  practice.  So  the  Saxoji  Chronicle 
died,  as  it  has  been  said,  of  pure  exhaustion,  and  a 
new  race  of  historians  continued  the  account  of 
this  country's  progress. 

Of  these  new  historians  the  first  was  Eadmer,  a 
monk  of  Canterbury,  who  wrote,  not  a  universal 
chronicle,  but  a  history  of  his  own  time  {Historia 
Novorum^  sive  sui  sceczdi)  in  six  books,  which  has 
been  four  times  printed.  This  Eadmer,  who  is 
supposed  to  have  been  born  about  the  year  1060 
(in  which  case  he  must  have  been  a  child  at  the  time 
of  the  Norman  Conquest)  was  a  devoted  friend  of 
Archbishop  Anselm,  and  shared  his  exile  on  the 
continent  when  William  Rufus  was  displeased  with 
him.  One  of  the  main  objects  of  his  work  is  to 
give  an  account  of  this  dispute  between  the  king 
and  the  archbishop,  which,  as  is  well  known,  arose 
on  the  question  of  investiture.  On  this  subject,  as 
Sir  Thomas  Hardy  remarks,  Eadmer  may  be  natur- 
ally suspected  of  being  a  partial  authority,  but 
that  he  states  the  arguments  on  either  side  with 

ENG.  F 


66  lEarlg  CTbronulcts  of  lEnglant). 

apparently  great  fidelity.  After  Anselm's  death 
he  also  enjoyed  the  friendship  of  his  successor, 
Archbishop  Radulf  or  Ralph  (d'Escures)  in  whose 
company  he  paid  a  visit  to  Rome.  When  he  came 
back  he  was  elected  bishop  of  St.  Andrew's,  but 
having  a  dispute  about  his  consecration  with 
Thurstan,  Archbishop  of  York,  he  preferred  to 
give  up  his  see  and  return  to  his  old  monastery. 
He  is  supposed  to  have  died  about  the  year  1124.* 

Eadmer  was  instigated  to  compose  this  work,  as 
he  himself  tells  us  in  the  preface,  by  the  great 
difficulty  which  he  knew  to  be  experienced  by  many 
men  in  that  day  in  obtaining  knowledge  of  past 
events  ;  which  made  him  think  that  those  who  had 
left  behind  them  written  accounts  of  their  own 
times  had  done  a  great  thing  for  posterity.  The 
work,  however,  is  more  of  an  ecclesiastical  than  a 
political  history.  Written  with  great  clearness  and 
elegance,  it  briefly  traces  the  history  of  the  English 
Church  from  the  days  of  Edgar  and  St.  Dunstan 
to  those  of  Lanfranc,  and  gives  a  pretty  full 
account  of  transactions  under  William  Rufus  and 
Henry  I.  At  first  the  author  had  intended  to 
conclude  with  the  death  of  Anselm ;  but  after 
completing  so  much  of  the  history  in  four  books 
he  was  induced  by  the  satisfaction  the  work  had 
given  to  a  large  number  of  readers  to  add  two 
books  more. 

As  an  example  of  the  general  character  of  the 
work  we  give  a  slightly  abridged  translation  of  the 

*  Hardy,  ii.  147. 


iSatimcr.  67 


passages  relating  to  the  election  of  Anselm  to  the 
see  of  Canterbury  : — 

"On  the  death  of  William  I.,  his  son  William  II.  promised 
with  the  most  solemn  oaths  to  Archbishop  Lan  franc,  without 
whose  assent  he  could  not  obtain  the  kingdom  (for  he  feared 
that  the  delay  of  his  coronation  would  entail  loss  of  the 
coveted  honour),  that  if  he  became  king  he  would  rule  the 
whole  kingdom  with  justice,  equity,  and  mercy,  and  defend 
the  Church  against  all  who  would  invade  her  liberties.  But 
after  he  was  crowned  he  little  regarded  this  promise,  and  in 
answer  to  the  reproaches  of  Lanfranc  he  asked  in  anger, 
*Who  is  there  who  can  fulfil  everything  that  he  has 
promised  ? '  After  Lanfranc's  death  he  invaded  Canterbury 
cathedral,  took  an  inventory  of  the  property,  taxed  the  living 
of  the  monks,  and,  in  effect,  set  the  rest  up  to  auction  to  the 
highest  bidder.  The  king's  satellites  invaded  the  cloisters, 
demanding  the  king's  money  with  threats,  to  the  scandal  of 
religion.  Some  of  the  monks  sought  refuge  in  other  monas- 
teries, the  rest  endured  many  trials  and  outrages.  The  same 
cruelty  was  practised  in  every  monastery  or  cathedral,  on  the 
death  of  the  abbot  or  bishop,  for  nearly  five  years. 

"In  the  fourth  year  Hugh,  Earl  of  Chester,  invited  Anselm, 
Abbot  of  Bee,  into  England,  to  inspect  a  church  within  his 
domains  which  he  intended  to  convert  into  a  monastery. 
Anselm  declined  ;  for  people  had  begun  to  talk  about  him  in 
private  and  say  that  if  he  came  to  England  he  would  be 
made  Archbishop  of  Canterbury,  which  was  quite  against  his 
inclination  ;  indeed,  he  was  firmly  resolved  not  to  undertake 
such  an  office.  The  earl,  however,  fell  ill  and  sent  to 
Anselm,  entreating  him  for  old  friendship  to  come  to  him  at 
once  for  his  spiritual  consolation.  After  repeated  messages 
the  earl  warned  him  that  if  he  still  delayed  to  come  to  him 
he  would  regret  it  through  all  eternity.  Anselm  was  moved 
to  depart  from  his  resolution.  He  had  other  causes,  indeed, 
relating  to  his  own  church,  for  wishing  to  go  to  England,  but 
had  been  restrained  hitherto  by  that  one  fear  of  being  made 


68  lEadg  (^l)tovi\t\ex^  of  ?Eng(anD. 

archbishop.  He  crossed  the  Channel,  landed  at  Dover,  and 
found  the  earl  recovered  from  his  illness.  He  was  detained 
in  England  nearly  five  months  and  nothing  was  said  of  his 
promotion,  so  that  he  seemed  to  have  escaped  the  danger  he 
so  much  apprehended  ;  but  on  desiring  from  the  king  a 
licence  to  return,  he  was  refused.  Meanwhile  the  lords 
assembled  at  the  king's  court  at  Christmas  complained  of 
the  delay  in  filling  up  the  see,  and  urged  the  king  (a  thing 
posterity  will  hardly  credit)  that  he  would  allow  prayers  to  be 
put  up  in  the  churches  throughout  England  that  God  would 
inspire  him  with  pity  to  allow  a  new  pastor  to  be  appointed 
and  relieve  the  Church  from  its  oppression.  The  king, 
though  enraged,  assented,  saying  whatever  the  Church 
demanded  he  meant  to  have  his  own  way  in  the  end. 
The  bishops  then  consulted  Anselm,  who,  though  loth 
to  be  preferred  to  them  even  in  such  a  matter,  drew  up  a 
form  of  prayer  for  the  occasion  which  was  approved  by  the 
whole  nobility. 

"  Meanwhile,  one  of  the  principal  lords  happened  one  day 
to  remark  to  the  king  that  he  knew  no  man  of  such  sanctity 
as  the  Abbot  of  Bee,  for  he  loved  nothing  but  God,  and  in  all 
his  doings  cared  for  nothing  transitory.  *  For  nothing, 
replied  the  king,  derisively,  '  what,  not  even  for  the  Arch- 
bishopric of  Canterbury?'  The  other  rephed,  'For  that 
least  of  all,  in  my  opinion,  and  in  that  of  many  others.'  The 
king  swore  that  Anselm  would  run  to  embrace  him,  if  he  had 
any  confidence  he  could  by  any  means  attain  to  it.  And  he 
added,  *  By  the  Holy  Face  of  Lucca'  (for  so  he  was  wont  to 
swear),  *  neither  he  nor  any  one  else  but  myself  shall  be  arch- 
bishop this  time,'  On  saying  this  immediately  a  serious  ill- 
ness overtook  him,  and  laid  him  on  his  bed  till  after  some 
days  he  seemed  on  the  point  of  death.  All  the  nobles  and 
councillors  assembled,  expecting  his  decease.  He  was 
advised  to  think  of  the  weal  of  his  soul,  open  the  prisons, 
release  the  captives,  forgive  debts,  and  restore  liberty  to  the 
churches  by  allowing  them  pastors,  especially  Canterbury,  as 
the  oppression  to  which  it  had   been  subjected  was  known 


lEatimcr.  69 


throughout  Christendom.     At  that  time  Anselm,  ignorant  of 
all  this,  was  staying  not  far  from  Gloucester,  where  the  king 
was  ill.     He  was  sent  for  to  come  to  the  king  in  all  haste 
and  to  fortify  him  in  the   hour  of  death  by  his  presence. 
Hearing  the  news,  he  makes  speed  and  comes.^    He  enters  to 
the  king,  is  asked  what  counsel  he  judged  most  wholesome 
for  the  dying  man.     He  first  desires  to  be  informed  what  had 
been  thought  best  for  the  sick  man  by  those  about  him  in  his 
absence.      He  hears,  approves,  and   adds,   *  It    is   written, 
"  Begin  to  the  Lord  in  confession  ; "  so  it  appears  to  me  that 
first  of  all  he  should  make  a  pure  confession  what  he  knows 
he  has  done  against  God,  and  promise  that  if  he  recover 
health  he  will  amend  everything  without  feigning,  and  then 
order  those  things  which  you  advise  to  be  done  without  delay.' 
This  advice  is  approved  of,  and  the  duty  of  receiving  the 
confession  is  committed  to    himself.      It  is  reported  to  the 
king  what  Anselm  thought  expedient  for  the  welfare  of  his 
soul.     He  immediately  acquiesces,  and  with  compunction  of 
heart  promises  to  do  everything  that  Anselm  recommended, 
and  henceforth  to  lead  a  life  of  gentleness  and  uprightness. 
To  this  he  pledges  his  faith,  and  appoints  his  bishops  as 
sureties  between  himself  and  God,  commissioning  some  of 
them  to  make  this  vow  upon  the  altar  in  his  name.     An  edict 
is  written  out  and  confirmed  with  the  king's  seal,  by  which 
all  captives  in  his  dominion  are  released,  all  debts  irrevocably 
remitted,  all  offences  heretofore    perpetrated  committed  to 
perpetual   oblivion.     The   people    are,  moreover,  promised 
good  and  holy  laws,  inviolable  observance  of  justice,  and  a 
serious  inquiry  as  to  wrongdoings  which  should  terrify  others. 
There  was  universal  joy,  and  thanks  were  given  to  God  with 
prayers  for  the  salvation  of  such  and  so  great  a  king. 

"  Meanwhile  the  king  is  advised  by  some  good  men  to  re- 
lease the  common  mother  of  the  whole  kingdom  [the  Church 
of  Canterbury]  from  her  state  of  widowhood.  He  consents 
willingly,  and  confesses  he  had  this  in  his  mind.  It  is  asked, 
therefore,  who  could  be  most  worthy  of  this  honour.  But  all 
awaiting  the  king's  reply  he  himself  announced— and  universal 


70  Isarlg  Cj^ronicUrj}  of  i£nglanl), 

applause  followed  the  declaration — that  the  Abbot  Anselm 
was  most  worthy.  Anselm  at  this  was  terror-struck  and  grew 
pale  ;  and  when  he  was  taken  to  the  king  that  he  might 
receive  the  archiepiscopal  investiture  from  his  hand,  he 
resisted  with  all  his  power  and  declared  that  for  many  causes 
it  could  not  be  done.  The  bishops  therefore  take  him  apart 
and  say  to  him,  '  What  are  you  doing  .?  What  do  you  mean  ? 
Why  do  you  strive  against  God  ?  You  see  that  almost  all 
Christianity  has  perished  in  England,  everything  has  got  into 
confusion,  all  abominations  have  broken  out,  and  everywhere 
we  ourselves  and  the  churches  we  ought  to  rule  have  fallen 
in  danger  of  eternal  death  by  the  tyranny  of  this  man  ;  and 
you,  when  you  have  power  to  relieve  us,  scorn  to  do  so.'  He 
answered,  '  Bear  with  me,  I  pray  you.  I  acknowledge  it  is 
true,  tribulations  are  many  and  have  need  of  help.  But  con- 
sider, I  pray.  I  am  old,  and  impatient  of  every  earthly 
labour.  How  then  can  I,  who  cannot  labour  for  myself, 
undertake  the  labour  of  the  whole  Church  throughout 
England  ?  Moreover,  my  conscience  bears  me  witness  that 
ever  since  I  became  a  monk  I  have  shunned  secular  affairs, 
nor  could  I  ever  willingly  apply  myself  to  them,  for  I  find 
nothing  in  them  to  excite  interest  in  me.'     *  Well,'  said  they, 

*  do  not  fear  to  take  upon  yourself  the  primacy  of  the  Church, 
and  go  before  us  in  the  way  of  God,  giving  orders  what  we 
shall  do  and  we  pledge  ourselves  to  obey  you.  Do  you  devote 
yourself  to  God  for  us  and  we  will  attend  to  secular  matters 
for  you.'  '  Impossible,'  he  said  ;  '  I  am  abbot  of  a  monastery 
in  another  kingdom,  having  an  archbishop  over  me  and  an 
earthly  prince  to  whom  I  owe  subjection,  and  monks  to  whom 
I  am  bound  to  afford  counsel  and  aid.  I  cannot  leave  my 
monks  without  their  consent,  nor  forsake  my  allegiance  with- 
out my  prince's  permission,  nor  withdraw  myself  from  obedi- 
ence to  my  archbishop  without  his  absolution.'  'But  you 
will  easily  gain  the  consent  of  them  all,'  said  they.  Anselm 
remained  obstinate,  and  was  taken  to  the  king,  who  being 
told  of  his  persistent  refusal  was  distressed  to  tears,  and  said, 

*  O  Anselm,  what  is  it  that  you  do  ?    Why  do  you  deliver  me 


lEattncr.  71 


to  eternal  torments?     Remember,  I  pray  you,  the  faithful 
friendship  my  father  and  mother  always  bore  to  you  and  you 
to  them  ;  by  it  I  conjure  you  not  to  allow  their  son  to  perish 
both  in  soul  and  body.     For  I  am  sure  that  I  shall  so  perish 
if  I  die  keeping  the  archbishopric  in  my  hands.     Help,  there- 
fore, good  father,  and  accept  the  archbishopric,  for  the  reten- 
tion of  which  I  shall  be  too  much  confounded  and  fear  lest 
I  shall  be  further  confounded  to  eternity.'    The  bystanders 
were  pricked  at  these  words,  and  as  Anselm  still  refused  to 
undertake  such  a  charge  they  broke  in,  and  said  to  him  with 
some  indignation — '  What  madness  has  taken  possession  of 
you  ?  You  annoy  the  king — you  positively  kill  him.    If  you  do 
not  fear  to  exasperate  him  by  your  obstinacy  when  he  is 
dying,  be   assured   that  all  the  troubles,  oppressions,  and 
crimes  which  henceforth  will  press    upon  England  will  be 
imputed  to  you  if  you  do  not  obviate  them  now  by  accepting 
the  pastoral  office.'     Placed  in  these  difficulties  Anselm  turns 
to  two  monks  that  were  with  him,  Baldwin  and  Eustace,  and 
said  to  them — '  Ah,  brothers,  why  do  you  not  help  me  ? '     He 
said  this  (before  God  I  lie  not)  in  such  a  state  of  anxiety,  as 
he  was  wont  to  affirm,  that  if  he  had  then  been  given  his 
choice,  he  would  (but  for  reverence  to  the  will  of  God)  gladly 
have  preferred  to  die  rather  than  be  promoted  to  the  arch- 
bishopric.    Baldwin  therefore  replied — '  If  it  be  the  will  of 
God  that  it  should  be  so,  shall  we  oppose  His  will?'    These 
words  were  followed  by  tears,  and  the  tears  by  an  effiision  of 
blood  from  his  nostrils,  showing  plainly  to  every  one  from 
what  condition  of  heart  the  words  proceeded.     Hearing  this 
answer,  Anselm  said,  *  Alas,  how  soon  your  staff  is  broken  ! ' 
The  king,  therefore,  perceiving  that  all  his  labour  was  in  vain, 
ordered  them  all  to  fall  at  his  feet,  if  by  any  means  they 
could  gain  his  consent.    But  when  they  fell,  he  fell  too  before 
the  king's  feet,  nor  would  he  be  moved  from  his  first  inten- 
tion.    But  they  being  provoked  at  him,  and  accusing  each 
other  of  sloth  for  the  delay  which  they  had   suffered  in 
meeting  his  objections,  cried  out,  *  Bring  the  pastoral  staff, 
the   pastoral    staff ! '     And  seizing   his    right    arm,   some 


72  Earlg  ©fjtomcler^  of  lEnglanU. 

dragged,  some  pushed  him  to  the  king's  bed-side.     The  king 
dehvered  the  staff  to  him,  but  he  clenched  his  hand  and 
refused  to  take  it  by  any  means.     The  bishops  attempted  to 
raise  his  fingers,  so  as  to  get  the  staff  put  into  his  hand,  but 
having  spent  some  time  in  vain  in  this  effort,  and  he  com- 
plaining of  the  injury  done  him,  at  length  they  got  the  fore- 
finger raised,  which  he  immediately  bent  back  again,  and 
the  staff  was  placed  in  his  closed  hand,  and  was  held  down 
and  retained  in  it  by  the  hands  of  the  bishops.     The  multi- 
tude exclaimed,  '  Long  live  the  bishop,  long  live  the  bishops 
and  clergy  !  "   They  began  to  chant  the  Te  Deiwu  and  carried, 
rather  than  led,  the  elect  archbishop  into  the  neighbouring 
church,  he  resisting  all  that  he  could,  and  saying,  *  It  is  naught 
that  you  do,  it  is  naught.'    The  usual  ceremonies  being  per- 
formed, Anselm  returns  to  the  king  and  says  to  him — *  I  tell 
you,  lord  king,  that  in  this  illness  you  will  not  die,  and  for 
this  reason  I  wish  you  to  know  how  you  may  well  correct 
what  has  now  been  done  about  me,  because  I  never  granted, 
nor  do  I  grant,  that  it  is  valid.'     This  said,  he  turned  back 
and  departed  from  him.     But  the  bishops  and  all  the  nobility 
leading  him  away,  he  passed   out  of  the  chamber.     Then 
turning  to  them,  he  broke  out  in  these  words  :  *  Do  you 
know  what  it  is  you  attempt  .»*    You  propose  to  yoke  an 
untamed  bull  and  an  old  and  feeble  sheep  together  in  one 
yoke  to  the  plough.    And  what  will  come  of  it  1    The  un- 
tameable  fierceness  of  the  bull  will  so  tear  the  sheep,  dragging 
it  hither  and  thither  through  thorns  and  brambles,  that  though 
fruitful  in  wool,  milk,  and  lambs,  if  it  do  not  throw  off  the 
yoke,  it  will  be  unable  to  yield  any  of  these  things,  and  will 
be  no  longer  of  any  service,  either  to  itself  or  any  one  else. 
You  have  acted  unwisely.     Have  regard  to  the  plough  of  the 
Church,  as  the  Apostle  says  (i  Cor.  iii.  9),  "Ye  are  God's 
husbandry,  God's  building."    This  plough  in  England  two 
specially  strong  oxen  draw  and  govern,  the  king  and  the 
Archbishop  of  Canterbury — the  one  in  secular  justice  and 
dominion,  the  other  in  divine  teaching  and  authority.     One 
of  these  oxen,  Archbishop  Lanfranc,  is  dead  ;  the  other,  with 


lEaUmcr.  73 


the  untameable  ferocity  of  a  bull,  is  now  found  in  possession 
of  the  plough,  and  you,  instead  of  the  dead  ox,  wish  to  yoke 
me,  an  old  feeble  sheep,  with  the  untamed  bull ! '  With  these 
and  other  words,  unable  to  disguise  his  grief  of  heart  he  burst 
into  tears  and  went  to  his  own  home." 

I  have  been  the  more  willing  to  quote  this 
remarkable  passage  at  length,  or  with  very  slight 
abridgment  here  and  there,  because  it  has  never 
been  translated  before,  and  the  substance  of  the 
facts  it  contains  is  known  to  the  general  reader 
only  through  modern  biographers  of  Anselm,  who 
interpret  his  conduct  according  to  the  bent  of  their 
own  minds.  Taken  in  its  simplicity,  as  I  think  it 
ought  to  be,  it  certainly  contains  things  that  the 
writer  was  justified  in  suspecting  posterity  would 
hardly  credit.  But  on  the  other  hand,  it  surely 
exhibits  to  us  one  of  the  most  typical  examples, 
and  reveals  with  peculiar  distinctness  the  character 
of  the  great  struggle  going  on  in  that  day  between 
temporal  and  spiritual  authority.  It  was,  in  fact,  the 
struggle  between  power  and  conscience ;  between 
power,  ever  strongly  desirous  to  assert  itself,  and 
conscience  anxious  to  decline,  if  possible,  a  very 
unequal  combat.  It  was  an  age  when  conscience 
only  seemed  safe  in  the  seclusion  of  a  monastery 
and  by  no  means  desired  to  be  dragged  from 
thence  by  violence  to  do  battle  with  the  kings  of 
this  world.  Yet,  somehow,  as  will  happen  in  all 
ages,  even  kings  could  not  do  altogether  without 
it ;  and  the  recluse  had  to  be  brought  forth  into 
the  light  of  day  to  speak  his  mind  before  the  rulers 


74  ^arlfi  ^j^tottklftm  of  1Eng!anD. 

of  the  earth.  Anselm's  strong  reluctance  to  assume 
responsibility  gave  his  words  all  the  greater  weight 
when  it  was  forced  upon  him  ;  and  though  driven 
into  exile  afterwards  for  his  integrity,  he  was 
recalled  by  Henry  I.  on  his  accession,  in  a  manner 
which  showed  clearly  that  conscience  had  won  the 
victory.  "  I,"  wrote  the  new  king  to  the  refugee, 
"  I,  by  the  will  of  God,  elected  by  the  clergy  and 
people  of  England,  and,  although  unwillingly  on 
account  of  your  absence,  now  consecrated  king, 
along  with  the  whole  people  of  England,  beseech 
you  as  a  father  that  you  will  come  as  soon  as 
possible  and  give  counsel  to  me  your  son,  and  to 
the  same  people  the  care  of  whose  souls  is  com- 
mitted to  you.  Myself  and  the  people  of  the  whole 
realm  of  England  I  commit  to  your  counsel  and  to 
that  of  those  who  ought  to  counsel  me  along  with 
you." 

The  seclusion  of  a  monastery  is  not  the  kind  of 
influence  which  we  should  naturally  expect  to  pro- 
mote a  knowledge  of  the  world.  Yet  even  in  this 
respect  the  monk  of  those  days  appears  to  advan- 
tage in  comparison  with  the  rough  warriors  and 
kings  of  whom  he  tells  us.  The  seclusion,  in  fact, 
as  what  we  have  related  clearly  shows,  was  by  no 
means  so  close  as  to  prevent  a  very  considerable 
amount  of  contact  with  the  outer  world.  Either  in 
the  affairs  of  his  house,  or  for  some  other  reason,  an 
abbot  found  it  occasionally  necessary  to  go,  or  send 
one  of  his  brethren,  into  other  countries — most  fre- 
quently to  Rome ;  and  in  the  case  of  Eadmer,  we 


lEaDmcr.  75 


have  a  junior  member  of  a  monastic  house  accom- 
panying an  archbishop  on  that  journey.  At  Rome^ 
the  very  centre  of  the  world,  the  monk  learned  to 
appreciate  the  politics  of  his  own  day  in  a  way  that 
no  one  else  could  ;  and  he  carried  back  into  his 
convent  and  imparted  to  his  brethren  a  more  or 
less  sagacious  account  of  all  that  was  going  on.  It 
was  impossible  that  the  tyranny  of  his  own  king 
should  altogether  tame  him  when  escape  to  Rome 
was  at  once  a  safety-valve  and  means  of  enlighten- 
ment which  enabled  him  to  hold  the  king  himself 
in  check.  In  the  convent  he  could  take  counsel 
with  his  brethren,  men  who  probably  knew  far  more 
about  European  affairs,  as  well  as  the  past  history 
of  their  own  country,  than  the  king's  council  itself. 
It  was  in  monasteries,  therefore,  that  the  great 
statesmen  of  the  day  were  educated  ;  and  by  their 
influence  even  the  selfish  and  capricious  conduct  of 
tyrants  was  reduced  to  something  like  a  practical 
aim,  and  governed  by  an  intelligible  purpose. 

At  present,  however,  we  are  concerned  with  the 
monk  only  in  his  capacity  of  historian. 

Eadmer  was  avowedly  the  historian  of  his  own  ■  V 
times  only,  and,  as  we  have  seen,  his  sole  concern 
is  with  ecclesiastical  affairs.  But  he  was  immedi- 
ately followed  by  other  writers,  who  took  a  more 
comprehensive  view,  tracing  the  whole  course  of 
English  history,  alike  in  its  ecclesiastical  and  in  its 
civil  and  political  aspects,  back  from  the  days  of 
Bede,  and  adding  very  lively  descriptions  of  what 
was  done  in  their  own  day.  To  these  historians 
we  must  now  turn  our  attention. 


76  lEarlg  Q^ijxomtkv^  of  lEnglanD. 

William  of  Malmesbury,  as  he  himself  informs 
us,*  was  partly  of  English,  and  partly  of  Norman 
parentage, — a  circumstance  from  which,  as  he  con- 
sidered, and  we  have  no  doubt  truly,  he  was  able 
to  take  a  more  dispassionate  view  of  the  acts  of 
William  the  Conqueror  than  was  commonly  done 
in  his  day  by  either  party.  He  was  born  appa- 
rently about  thirty  years  after  the  conquest,  as  it 
appears  by  some  of  his  writings  that  Henry  I.  was 
dead  when  he  attained  his  fortieth  year,  and  he  also 
mentions  having  witnessed,  when  a  boy,  certain 
things,  which  took  place  at  Malmesbury  in  the  time 
of  Abbot  Godfrey,  who  died  in  the  year  1105.  He 
was  probably  placed  at  Malmesbury  by  his  parents 
for  the  sake  of  his  education,  in  which  he  shows 
that  they  both  took  very  great  interest.  From  his 
childhood  he  took  a  delight  in  books,  in  which  he 
was  encouraged  by  his  father,  and  the  love  of  lite- 
rature grew  with  advancing  years.  "  Indeed,"  he 
says,  "  I  was  so  instructed  by  my  father  that,  had  I 
turned  aside  to  other  pursuits,  I  should  have  con- 
sidered it  as  jeopardy  to  my  soul  and  discredit  to 
my  character."  In  due  time  he  became  a  monk  at 
the  place  where  he  was  brought  up.  He  collected 
books  for  the  use  of  the  monastery,  and  was  made 
their  librarian,  and  afterwards  precentor.  In  the 
year  1 140,  when  the  monastery,  which  had  been 
annexed  by  Roger,  bishop  of  Salisbury,  to  his  see, 
obtained  leave  on  his  death  to  choose  its  own 
abbots   as    formerly,  William    declined   that  very 


'*  Gesta  Regum,  Book  iii,  preface. 


2!29[iUtam  of  i^almesBtirg*  77 

onerous  office  in  favour  of  his  colleague  John,  by 
whom  the  house,  as  he  states,  was  rescued  from 
thraldom.*  In  1 141  he  took  part  in  the  council  at 
Winchester  against  King  Stephen  ;  and  he  prob- 
ably died  in  or  shortly  after  1 142,  the  year  in  which 
his  latest  work,  the  Historia  Novella  abruptly  comes 
to  an  end. 

This  is  all  that  is  known  of  the  life  of  the  man. 
Of  his  intellectual  capacity  and  literary  powers  his 
works  bear  witness.  His  reputation  as  an  author 
in  his  own  day  was  wide-spread,  and  he  received 
requests  from  various  monasteries  to  write  the 
history  of  their  communities  or  the  lives  of  their 
patron  saints  ;  in  compliance  with  which  he  wrote 
for  the  monks  of  Glastonbury  the  lives  of  St. 
Patrick  and  St.  Dunstan,  besides  other  treatises  of 
the  miracles  and  martyrdoms  of  particular  saints. 
His  industry  appears  to  have  been  unflagging,  and 
in  the  composition  of  his  principal  works  he  seems 
to  have  exhausted  all  the  materials  that  were  then 
available.  But  what  is  more  remarkable  is  the 
clear  and  lucid  style  in  which  he  has  woven  all 
the  information  that  he  found  into  a  connected 
narrative.  He  is  a  genuine  historian,  not  a  dry 
compiler  of  annals  like  the  writers  who  preceded 
him  ;  and  he  himself  feels  keenly  the  disgrace  that 
no  one  since  the  days  of  Bede  had  succeeded  in 
producing  a  readable  history  of  English  affairs. 

Nor  is  his  work  less  valuable  in  respect  of  the 

*  *'  Hardy's  Descriptive  Catalogue,"  iL  155.  W.  Malm.,  Gesta 
Reg,  and  Hist.  Novella. 


78  Icarlg  ©jbtoniclet^  of  Icnglant). 

judgment  he  displays  in  dealing  with  the  informa- 
tion handed   down  to  him.      In  many   instances, 
recording  a  doubtful  story,  he  is  careful  to  state 
that  he  reports  it  merely  as  it  was  given  to  him  ; 
and  even  in  writing  about  the  miracles  of  saints  he 
is  generally  anxious  to  make  the  first  authors  of 
those  legends  responsible  for  their  truth.    His  mind 
had  received  a  training  in  youth  which  evidently 
had  raised  him  greatly  above  the  superstitions  of 
the  time   and   made  him   an   excellent   judge  of 
evidences,  both  physical  and  moral.     He  tells  us 
himself  of  his  early  studies  that  he  had  devoted 
himself  to  various  branches  of  literature,  though 
not   with  equal   ardour.      In   logic   he   had   been 
content  merely  to  be  a  listener.     Medicine  he  had 
studied   with   somewhat    more    attention.      "  But 
now,"  he    says,    "  having   scrupulously    examined 
the  several  branches  of  ethics,  I  bow  down  to  its 
majesty,  because  it  spontaneously  unveils  itself  to 
those  who  study  it,  and  directs  their  minds  to  moral 
practice ;    history  more    especially,   which,  by  an 
agreeable  recapitulation  of  past  events,  excites  its 
readers    by  example  to  frame  their  lives   to  the 
pursuit  of  good,  or  to  aversion  from  evil.     When, 
therefore,  at  my  own  expense  I  had  procured  his- 
torians of  foreign  nations,  I  proceeded  during  my 
domestic  leisure,  to  inquire  if  anything  concerning 
our  own  country  could  be  found  worthy  of  handing 
down  to  posterity.    Hence  it  arose  that,  not  content 
with  the  writings  of  ancient  times,  I  began  myself 
to  compose ;  not,  indeed  to  display  any  learning, 


2:2ainiam  of  i^almc^Burg,  79 

which  is  comparatively  nothing,  but  to  bring  to 
light  events  lying  concealed  in  the  confused  mass 
of  antiquity.  In  consequence,  rejecting  vague 
opinions,  I  have  studiously  sought  for  chronicles 
far  and  near,  though  I  confess  I  have  scarcely 
profited  anything  by  this  industry  ;  for  perusing 
them  all,  I  still  remained  poor  in  information, 
though  I  ceased  not  my  researches  as  long  as  I 
could  find  anything  to  read." 

His  two  principal  works  are  named  "  The  Acts 
of  the  English  Kings"  {Gesta  Regiim  Anglorum), 
and  "  The  Acts  of  the  English  Bishops "  {Gesta 
Pontificum  Anglorum).  Another  treatise  giving  an 
account  of  the  abbey  of  Glastonbury  from  its  sup- 
posed foundation  by  Joseph  of  Arimathsea,  to  the 
author's  own  time,  contains  some  particulars  of 
manners  and  customs.  But  the  Acts  of  tlie  Kings 
is,  as  its  name  implies,  his  most  important  con- 
tribution to  the  political  history  of  England. 

This  work  extends  from  the  coming  of  the 
Saxons  into  England  to  the  twenty-eighth  year 
of  King  Henry  I.,  or  the  year  of  our  Lord  1128. 
In  some  manuscripts  it  only  comes  down  to  the 
year  11 20,  where  it  would  seem  the  author  himself 
brought  the  work  to  a  close  ;  but  an  examination 
of  the  different  manuscripts,  shows  that  he  issued  at 
least  three  editions  of  it,  if  not  more.  He  moreover 
afterwards  added  a  continuation  under  the  title  of 
Historia  Novella^  or  Modern  History,  bringing  the 
narrative  of  events  down  to  the  year  1 142  ;  and  it 
would  seem  he  corrected  the  original  work  in  some 


So  lEnrlg  ©j^rontclcr^  of  lEnglantJ. 

places  even  after  it  was  finally  completed,  of  which 
we  have  an  interesting  example  at  the  end  of  the 
fourth  book.  Speaking  of  the  career  of  Robert 
Curthose,  of  Normandy,  the  eldest  son  of  the 
Conqueror,  and  how  he  was  finally  deprived  even 
of  the  Duchy  of  Normandy,  and  shut  up  in  prison 
by  his  brother  King  Henry  ;  the  author  added,  as 
we  find  in  one  manuscript,  **  and  whether  he  ever  will 
be  set  free  is  doubtful."  But  the  reading  in  most  of 
the  manuscripts  is,  "  nor  was  he  ever  liberated  till  the 
day  of  his  death,"  showing  clearly  that  the  text  was 
amended  several  years  after  the  conclusion  of  the 
history,  for  Robert  did  not  die  till  1 1 34. 

The  materials  of  the  earlier  portion  of  the  work 
are  of  course  derived  from  other  writers  ;  and 
these,  for  the  most  part,  can  be  pretty  well  iden- 
tified. Bede  and  the  Saxon  Chrojiicle  are  among 
the  chief;  but  the  writings  of  Alcuin,  of  Ethel- 
werd,  of  Eadmer,  of  William  of  Poitiers  and  a 
number  of  other  authors,  both  native  and  foreign, 
were  certainly  among  his  authorities.  In  short, 
there  was  no  available  source  of  information  of 
which  he  did  not  make  ample  use. 

The  third  book,  leaving  for  a  time  the  current 
of  English  history,  begins  with  an  account  of  the 
career  of  William  the  Conqueror's  father  and  of 
himself  in  Normandy,  and  then  describes  the 
battle  of  Hastings.  The  author's  comments  on 
that  great  event  are  deeply  significant  of  the 
causes  of  the  victory  and  the  success  of  Norman 
rule  in  England  : — 


MilUam  of  iHalmcjiBurg,  8i 

"  This  was  a  fatal  day  to  England,  a  melancholy  havoc 
of  our  dear  country,  through  its  change  of  masters.     For  it 
had  long  since  adopted  the  manners  of  the  Angles,  which  had 
been  very  various  according  to  the  times;  for  in  the  first  year 
of  their  arrival  they  were  barbarians  in  their  looks  and  man- 
ners, warlike  in  their  usages,  heathens  in  their  rules ;  but, 
after  embracing  the  faith  of  Christ,  by  degrees,  and  in  process 
of  time,  from  the  peace  they  enjoyed,  regarding  arms  only  in 
a  secondary  light,  they  gave  their  whole  attention  to  religion. 
I   say  nothing  of  the  poor,  the  meanness  of  whose  fortune 
often  restrains  them  from  overstepping  the  bounds  of  justice. 
I  omit  men  of  ecclesiastical  rank,  whom  sometimes  respect 
to  their  profession  and  sometimes  the  fear  of  shame,  suffer 
not  to  deviate  from  the  truth  ;  I  speak  of  princes,  who  from 
the  greatness  of  their  power  might  have  full  liberty  to  indulge 
in  pleasure  ;  some  of  whom  in  their  own  country,  and  others 
at  Rome,  changing  their  habit,  obtained  a  heavenly  kingdom 
and  a  saintly  intercourse.     Many  during  their  whole  lives  in 
outward  appearance  only  embraced  the  present  world,  in  order 
that  they  might  exhaust  their  treasures  on  the  poor,  or  divide 
them  amongst  monasteries.     What  shall  I  say  of  the  multi- 
tudes of  bishops,  hermits,  and  abbots  ?     Does  not  the  whole 
island  blaze  with  such  numerous  relics  of  its  natives  that  you 
can  scarcely  pass  a  village  of  any  consequence  but  you  hear 
the  name  of  some  new  saint,  besides  the  numbers  of  whom  all 
notices  have  perished  through  the  want  of  records  ?     Never- 
theless, in  process  of  tmie,  the  desire  after  literature  and  ' 
religion  had  decayed  for  several  years  before  the  arrival  of 
the  Normans.   The  clergy,  contented  with  a  very  slight  degree 
'){ learning,  could  hardly  stammer  out  the  words  of  the  sacra- 
ments ;  and  a  person  who  understood  grammar  was  an  object 
of  wonder  and  astonishment.    The  monks  mocked  the  rule  of 
their  order  by  fine  vestments  and  the  use  of  every  kind  of 
food.     The  nobility,  given  up  to  luxury  and  wantonness,  went 
not  to  church  in  the  morning  after  the  manner  of  Christians, 
but  merely,  in  a  careless  manner,  heard  matins  and  masses 
from  a  hurrying  priest  in  their  chambers,  amid  the  blandish- 
ENG.  G 


82  lEarlg  CTj^ronklcr^  of  lEnglanD. 

mcnts  of  their  wives.  The  commonalty,  left  unprotected, 
became  a  prey  to  the  most  powerful,  who  amassed  fortunes 
by  either  seizing  on  their  property,  or  by  selling  their  persons 
into  foreign  countries  ;  although  it  be  an  innate  quality  of 
this  people  to  be  more  inclined  to  revelling  than  to  the  accu- 
mulation of  wealth.  There  was  one  custom,  repugnant  to 
nature,  which  they  adopted  ;  namely,  to  sell  their  female 
servants  when  pregnant  by  them,  and  after  they  had  satisfied 
their  lust,  either  to  public  prostitution,  or  foreign  slavery. 
Drinking  in  parties  was  a  universal  practice,  in  which  occu- 
pation they  passed  entire  nights  as  well  as  days.  They 
consumed  their  whole  substance  in  mean  and  despicable 
houses  ;  unlike  the  Normans  and  French,  who  in  noble  and 
splendid  mansions  lived  with  frugality.  The  vices  attendant 
on  drunkenness,  which  enervate  the  human  mind,  followed ; 
hence  it  arose  that  engaging  William,  more  with  rashness 
and  precipitate  fury  than  military  skill,  they  doomed  them- 
selves and  their  country  to  slavery  by  one,  and  that  an  easy, 
victory.  *  For  nothing  is  less  effective  than  rashness  ;  and 
what  begins  with  violence  quickly  ceases,  or  is  repelled.'  In 
fine,  the  Enghsh  at  that  time,  wore  short  garments  reaching 
to  the  mid-knee ;  they  had  their  hair  cropped,  their  beards 
shaven,  their  arms  laden  with  golden  bracelets,  their  skin 
adorned  with  punctured  designs.  They  were  accustomed  to 
eat  till  they  became  surfeited,  and  to  drink  till  they  were  sick. 
These  latter  quahties  they  imparted  to  their  conquerors  ;  as 
to  the  rest,  they  adopted  their  manners.  I  would  not,  how- 
ever, have  these  bad  propensities  universally  ascribed  to  the 
English.  I  know  that  many  of  the  clergy  at  that  day,  trod 
the  paths  of  sanctity,  by  a  blameless  hfe  ;  I  know  that  many 
of  the  laity,  of  all  ranks  and  conditions  in  this  nation,  were 
well  pleasing  to  God.  Be  injustice  far  from  this  account ; 
the  accusation  does  not  involve  the  whole  indiscriminately ; 
*  But  as  in  peace  the  mercy  of  God  often  cherishes  the  bad 
and  the  good  together,  so  equally  does  His  severity  some- 
times include  them  both  in  captivity.' 

"  Moreover,  the  Normans,  that  I  may  speak  of  them  also, 


gittUiam  of  i^alme^bur^.  S;^ 

were  at  that  time,  and  are  even  now,  proudly  apparelled; 
delicate  in  their  food,  but  not  excessive.  They  are  a  race 
inured  to  war,  and  can  hardly  live  without  it  ;  fierce  in  rush- 
ing against  the  enemy  ;  and  where  strength  fails  of  success, 
ready  to  use  stratagem,  or  to  corrupt  by  bribery.  As  I  have 
related,  they  live  in  large  edifices  with  economy  ;  envy  theit 
equals  ;  wish  to  excel  their  superiors  ;  and  plunder  their 
subjects,  though  they  defend  them  from  others  ;  they  are 
faithful  to  their  bonds,  though  a  slight  offence  renders  them 
perfidious.  They  weigh  treachery  by  its  chance  of  success, 
and  change  their  sentiments  with  money.  They  are,  how- 
ever, the  kindest  of  nations,  and  they  esteem  strangers 
worthy  of  equal  honour  with  themselves.  They  also  inter- 
marry with  their  vassals.  They  revived,  by  their  arrival,  the 
observances  of  rehgion,  which  were  everywhere  grown  lifeless 
in  England.  You  might  see  churches  rise  in  every  village, 
and  monasteries  in  the  towns  and  cities,  built  after  a  style 
unknown  before  ;  you  might  behold  the  country  flourishing 
with  renovated  rites  ;  so  that  each  wealthy  man  accounted 
that  day  lost  to  him,  which  he  had  neglected  to  signalize  by 
some  magnificent  action." 

Book  III.,  from  which  the  above  extract  is  taken, 
is  entirely  occupied  with  the  history  of  William  the 
Conqueror  and  his  contemporaries.  Book  IV.,  in 
like  manner,  is  devoted  to  William  Rufus  and  to 
the  first  Crusade ;  and  nowhere  do  the  vigour  and 
liveliness  of  the  author  appear  to  greater  advantage 
than  in  describing  that  great  movement.  No  lan- 
guage, indeed,  could  better  enable  us  to  realize  an 
age  of  enthusiasm  than  the  following  : — 

"  This  ardent  love  not  only  inspired  the  continental 
provinces,  but  even  all  who  had  heard  the  name  of  Christ, 
whether  in  the  most  distant  islands  or  savage  countries. 
The  Welshman  left  his  hunting,  the  Scot  his  fellowship  with 


84  lEarlg  ^j^roniclcr^  of  lEnglanU. 

vermin,  the  Dane  his  drinking  party,  the  Norwegian  his  raw 
fish.  Lands  were  deserted  of  their  husbandmen  ;  houses  of 
their  inhabitants  ;  even  whole  cities  migrated.  There  was 
no  regard  to  relationship  ;  affection  to  their  country  was  held 
in  little  esteem  ;  God  alone  was  placed  before  their  eyes. 
"Whatever  was  stored  in  granaries,  or  hoarded  in  chambers, 
to  answer  the  hopes  of  the  avaricious  husbandman,  or  thecove- 
tousness  of  the  miser,  all,  all  was  deserted  ;  they  hungered 
and  thirsted  after  Jerusalem  alone.  Joy  attended  such  as 
proceeded,  while  grief  oppressed  those  who  remained.  But 
why  do  I  say  remained  ?  You  might  see  the  husband  depart- 
ing with  his  wife,  indeed  with  all  his  family  ;  you  would  smile 
to  see  the  whole  household  laden  on  a  carriage,  about  to 
proceed  on  their  journey.  The  road  was  too  narrow  for  the 
passengers,  the  path  too  confined  for  the  travellers,  so  thickly 
were  they  thronged  with  endless  multitudes.  The  number 
surpassed  all  human  imagination,  though  the  itinerants  were 
estimated  at  six  millions.  Doubtless,  never  did  so  many 
nations  unite  in  one  opinion  ;  never  did  so  immense  a  popu- 
lation subject  their  unruly  passions  to  one,  and  almost  to  no 
direction.  For  the  strangest  wonder  to  behold  was,  that 
such  a  countless  multitude  marched  gradually  through  various 
Christian  countries  without  plundering,  though  there  was  none 
to  restrain  them.  Mutual  regard  blazed  forth  in  all ;  so  that 
if  any  one  found  in  his  possession  what  he  knew  did  not 
belong  to  him,  he  exposed  it  everywhere  for  several  days  to 
be  owned  ;  and  the  desire  of  the  finder  was  suspended  till 
perchance  the  wants  of  the  loser  might  be  repaired." 

No  one  will  say  after  reading  passages  like  these 
that  literary  art  and  descriptive  power  were  un- 
known among  writers  of  the  middle  ages.  William 
of  Malmesbury  was  essentially  a  pictorial  writer, 
and  nothing  can  exceed  the  skill  with  which  he 
depicts  events  and  incidents.  We  are  thankful  to 
him  not  only  for  graphic  accounts  of  the  actions, 


SSaiUiam  of  JHalmegBurg,  85 

but  for  personal  notices  of  many  of  the  leaders  in 
the  Crusade,  which  are  full  of  interest.  We  are 
told  how  Godfrey  of  Boulogne,  at  the  siege  of 
Antioch,  "  with  a  Lorrainian  sword  cut  asunder  a 
Turk  who  had  demanded  single  combat,  and  one- 
half  of  the  man  lay  panting  on  the  ground  while 
the  horse,  at  full  speed,  carried  away  the  other, 
so  firmly  the  miscreant  sat,"  adds  the  historian, 
with  an  involuntary  admiration  of  the  fighting  quali- 
ties, even  of  an  infidel,  though  he  is  firmly  per- 
suaded all  along  that  the  very  same  pertinacity  and 
valour  which  were  glorious  beyond  measure  in  the 
service  of  the  Cross  were  the  reverse  of  admirable 
in  its  enemies.  Robert  of  Normandy,  son  of 
William  the  Conqueror,  is  described  to  the  very 
life  with  his  short  stature,  projecting  belly,  his  easy 
good  nature,  improvidence,  and  fitful  indignation. 
We  understand  most  perfectly  the  man  who  was 
always  throwing  away  his  advantages,  and  can 
almost  sympathise  with  the  feeling  of  the  historian, 
that  his  misfortunes  were  a  punishment  for  that 
ignoble  love  of  ease  which  led  him  to  reject  the 
kingdom  of  Jerusalem.  He  is  altogether  a  remark- 
able contrast  to  his  brother  Henry  Beauclerc,  whose 
character  is  portrayed  at  even  greater  length.  Born 
in  England  after  his  father's  coming  over,  he  was 
cherished  by  all  about  him  more  than  his  elder 
brothers,  to  all  of  whom,  it  seems  to  have  been 
thought,  he  would  have  been  preferred  in  the 
succession.  The  care  bestowed  on  his  education 
bore  good  fruit.     He   used   to  say  in  his  father's 


86  lEarlg  €!)ron(cler0  of  lEnglant. 

hearing  that  "  an  illiterate  king  is  a  crowned  ass," 
and  when  he  came  to  the  crown  himself  his  learn- 
ing, in  William  of  Malmesbury's  opinion,  assisted 
him  much  in  the  science  of  governing.  This  writer 
extols  highly  the  politic  arts  that  he  had  learned 
from  philosophy,  the  energy  and  decision  of  his 
character,  the  inflexible  firmness  with  which  he 
administered  justice.  And  in  those  days,  it  is  to 
be  observed,  justice  was  administered  by  the  king 
personally,  sometimes  in  a  very  rough  and  primi- 
tive fashion,  which  seems  rather  amusing.  "The 
measure  of  his  own  arm,"  says  the  chronicler, 
•*  was  applied  to  correct  the  false  ell  of  the  traders, 
and  enjoined  for  the  followers  of  his  court  at  which- 
ever of  his  possessions  he  might  be  resident ;  and 
they  were  instructed  what  they  should  accept  with- 
out payment  from  the  country  folks,  and  how  much, 
and  at  what  price  they  should  purchase,  the  trans- 
gressors being  punished  by  a  heavy  fine  or  loss  of 
life." 

Comparatively  little  is  said  in  this  book  about 
the  political  history  of  Henry's  reign.  There  is  an 
interesting  account  of  his  first  queen  Matilda,  and 
of  the  unfortunate  drowning  of  his  son  William. 
There  is  also  mention  of  the  marriage  of  his 
daughter  Maud  to  the  Emperor  Henry  V.,  and  an 
account  of  that  Emperor's  dispute  with  Pope 
Paschal.  But  the  religious  revival  of  which  the 
foundation  of  Reading  Abbey  was  one  indication 
appears  to  have  made  a  deeper  impression  on  the 
author  than  the  political  events  of  his  own  day ; 


SSaiUiam  of  JWalme^burg*  ^7 

and  the  work  concludes  with  some  notices  of  the 
more  remarkable  churchmen  or  heads  of  religious 
houses  who  had  recently  died  in  the  odour  of 
sanctity. 

The  Historia  Novella  of  William  of  Malmesbury, 
though  commonly  regarded  as  a  continuation  of  the 
Gesta  Regum,  is  really  a  separate  work  undertaken 
at  the  request  of  Robert,  Earl  of  Gloucester,  natural 
son  of  Henry  L,  for  the  express  purpose  of  record- 
ing certain  very  notable  events  which  at  the  time 
had  recently  taken  place  in  England,  as  the  author 
says,  **  through  the  miraculous  power  of  God." 
The  events  thus  alluded  to  were  simply  those  of 
the  contest  between  King  Stephen  and  the  Empress 
Maud,  in  which  the  Earl  of  Gloucester  himself  took 
a  very  prominent  part ;  and  it  might,  perhaps,  be 
considered  from  this  that  the  treatise  is  somewhat 
of  a  partisan  character.  But  it  is  certainly  written 
in  the  style  of  an  impartial  historian,  and  has  never 
yet  been  taxed  with  unfairness.  The  author,  in- 
deed, does  not  confine  himself  merely  to  those 
subjects  which  concern  the  civil  war  in  England, 
but  in  his  introductory  chapter  gives  some  account 
among  other  things  of  the  double  papal  election 
after  the  death  of  Honorius  II.  He  also  conde- 
scends to  notice  matters  characteristic  of  the  times 
which  were  by  no  means  of  such  momentous  con- 
sequence ;  and  the  reader  will  feel  grateful  for  the 
following  anecdote  which  occurs  in  his  brief  sum- 
mary of  the  later  years  of  Henry  I. : — ■ 


88  lEarlg  ©jbronicln^  of  l£nglnnl>. 

"In  his  twenty-eighth  year  the  king  returned  from  Nor- 
mandy ;  in  his  twenty-ninth  a  circumstance  occurred  in 
England  which  may  seem  surprising  to  our  long-haired 
gallants,  who,  forgetting  what  they  were  bom,  transform 
themselves  into  the  fashion  of  females  by  the  length  of  their 
locks.  A  certain  English  knight,  who  prided  himself  on  the 
luxuriancy  of  his  tresses,  being  stung  by  conscience  on  the 
subject,  seemed  to  feel  in  a  dream  as  though  some  person 
strangled  him  with  his  ringlets.  Awaking  in  a  fright,  he 
immediately  cut  off  all  his  superfluous  hair.  The  example 
spread  throughout  England  ;  and,  as  recent  punishment  is 
apt  to  affect  the  mind,  almost  all  military  men  allowed  their 
hair  to  be  cropped  in  a  proper  manner,  without  reluctance. 
But  this  decency  was  not  of  long  continuance  ;  for  scarcely 
had  a  year  expired  ere  all  who  thought  themselves  courtly 
relapsed  into  their  former  vice ;  they  vied  with  women  in 
length  of  locks,  and,  wherever  they  were  defective,  put  on 
false  tresses  ;  forgetful,  or  rather  ignorant,  of  the  saying  of 
the  Apostle,  *  If  a  man  nurture  his  hair,  it  is  a  shame  to 
him. 

It  seems  an  extraordinary  thing  to  hear  of  such 
effeminate  tastes  in  the  turbulent  times  in  which 
our  author  wrote  ;  for  it  is  clear  from  what  he  says 
that  it  must  have  been  a  prevalent  fashion  even 
after  the  death  of  Henry  I.,  and  during  the  civil 
war  in  Stephen's  time. 

Of  the  reign  of  King  Stephen  we  have  two 
original  narratives  besides  that  given  in  the  Historia 
Novella  of  Malmesbury.  The  first  is  an  anonymous 
fragment  entitled  the  Gesta  Stephani,  derived,  un- 
fortunately, from  one  single  manuscript  in  which 
some  passages  are  obliterated  and  the  end  entirely 
lost.  There  is  no  doubt,  however,  that  it  is  the 
work  of  a  contemporary  who  was  an  eye-witness  of 


^ct^  of  5tfi-j[)cn.  89 


some  of  the  scenes  he  describes  in  it.  The  writer 
also  appears  to  have  been  a  churchman — some  have 
supposed  the  king's  confessor.  It  is  not  unreason- 
able, at  least,  as  remarked  by  his  editor,  Dr.  Sewell, 
to  think  that  he  was  a  Norman ;  a  friend,  and 
perhaps  a  connection  of  the  king.  Sir  Thom.as 
Hardy,  however,  while  agreeing  that  he  was  a 
foreigner,  thinks  that  he  lived  either  in  Hereford- 
shire or  Gloucestershire,  as  he  notices  those  parts 
of  the  kingdom  more  frequently  than  others ;  and 
if  this  conjecture  be  right,  he  could  hardly  have 
been  the  king's  confessor.  Although  he  keeps  to 
the  true  order  of  events  he  never  gives  a  date ;  and 
though  his  style  has  been  criticised  as  being  rather 
florid  and  diffuse  there  is  only  one  place  in  which 
he  has  been  suspected  of  exaggerating.  This  is 
at  the  very  beginning  where  he  describes  a  state 
of  anarchy  and  confusion  to  have  arisen  on  the 
death  of  Henry  I.,  in  which  even  the  brute  creation 
is  described  as  having  shared.  The  bonds  of 
government  were  relaxed,  the  ties  even  of  relation- 
ship were  disregarded,  war  and  riot  broke  loose 
throughout  the  land.  Even  the  wild  animals 
formerly  preserved  in  parks  were  let  loose  and  were 
hunted  freely  by  every  one.  "  This,  indeed,"  says 
the  writer,  "  was  a  minor  calamity  not  much  to  be 
complained  of ;  and  yet  it  was  wonderful  how  so 
many  myriads  of  wild  animals,  which  in  large 
herds  before  plentifully  stocked  the  country,  sud- 
denly disappeared,  so  that  out  of  this  vast  number 
scarcely  two  could  now  be  found  together.     They 


90  lEarlg  ©l)ronlcIcr<i  of  Icnglant). 

seemed  to  be  entirely  extirpated,  insomuch  that  it 
is  reported  a  single  bird  was  a  rare  sight,  and  a 
stag  was  nowhere  to  be  seen." 

Unless  this  extermination  of  the  beasts  and  birds 
be  an  exaggeration,  it  is  hard  to  say  what  else  there 
is  in  the  author's  picture  of  the  time  to  which  we 
should  be  specially  on  our  guard  against  giving 
credit.  The  only  reason  given  for  distrust  is  that 
Henry  I.  died  on  the  1st  December,  1135,  and  that 
Stephen  immediately  left  Normandy  and  was 
crowned  on  the  22nd  of  the  same  month.  But 
surely  a  vast  deal  of  disorder  may  take  place  within 
the  period  of  three  weeks,  and  it  is  evident  even 
from  the  narrative  itself  that  the  mere  announce- 
ment of  Stephen's  coronation  throughout  the  land 
did  not  suffice  to  restore  tranquillity.  It  was  one  of 
the  things  to  which  he  pledged  himself  at  his  coro- 
nation that  he  would  do  his  utmost  to  pacify  the 
kingdom,  and  according  to  our  author  he  thereupon 
took  up  arms  against  the  bands  of  robbers  "  who 
ravaged  that  part  of  the  kingdom "  (that  is  to  say 
the  southern  part),  and  by  successfully  encounter- 
ing them  "  he  made  his  name  great  at  the  very 
beginning  of  his  reign." 

His  success  in  obtaining  the  crown  was  greatly 
owing  to  his  brother  Henry  of  Blois,  bishop  of 
Winchester  and  papal  legate,  who  received  him 
before  his  coronation  in  his  own  cathedral  city, 
spoken  of  by  our  author  as  the  second  city  of  the 
kingdom,  and  helped  to  put  him  in  possession  of 
the  late  king's  hoarded  wealth.    But  the  archbishop 


^ct0  of  3Ui^\)iti*  91 


of  Canterbury  refused  to  perform  the  rite  of  corona- 
tion until  the  new  king's  title  was  sufficiently- 
cleared  of  objections : — 

"For  the  king,  he  argued,  is  chosen  for  the  purpose  of 
governing  all,  and  that  when  elected  he  may  enforce  the 
rights  of  his  government  on  all ;  so  then  it  is  plain  that  all 
should  make  common  agreement  in  confirming  his  election, 
and  that  it  should  be  determined  by  common  consent  whether 
it  shall  be  -ratified  or  annulled.  He  added  that  king  Henry 
in  his  lifetime  had  bound  all  the  principal  men  of  the  realm 
by  a  most  solemn  oath  not  to  acknowledge  the  title  of  any  one 
after  his  own  death  but  his  daughter,  who  was  married  to  the 
Count  of  Anjou,  or,  if  he  himself  survived  her,  his  daughter's 
heir.  Therefore  there  was  great  presumption  in  endeavouring 
to  set  aside  this  engagement,  the  more  especially  as  not  only 
was  king  Henry's  daughter  living,  but  she  was  favoured  in 
having  heirs  of  her  body.  To  this  the  king's  partisans  replied 
with  confidence, '  We  do  not  deny  that  king  Henry's  policy 
on  the  marriage  of  his  daughter  was  wise,  as  it  led  to  a  firm 
and  stable  peace  between  the  people  of  Normandy  and  Anjou, 
between  whom  there  were  frequent  disturbances.  With 
respect  to  the  succession,  that  imperious  king,  whom  no  one 
could  resist,  with  a  voice  of  thunder  compelled,  rather  than 
persuaded,  the  great  men  of  the  kingdom  to  take  the  oath  of 
fealty  ;  for  though  he  foresaw  that  an  involuntary  oath  would 
not  be  considered  binding,  still  he  wished,  like  Ezekiel,  to 
have  peace  in  his  days,  and  by  the  marriage  of  one  woman 
create  a  bond  of  union  between  countless  multitudes.  We 
willingly  admit  that  this  thing  was  agreeable  to  him  while  he 
lived,  but  we  say  that  he  would  not  have  been  satisfied  that 
it  should  be  unalterable  after  his  death  ;  for  those  who  stood 
round  him  when  he  was  at  the  last  extremity,  and  listened  to 
liis  true  confession,  heard  him  plainly  express  his  repentance 
for  the  oath  which  he  had  enforced  on  his  barons.  Since, 
therefore,  it  is  evident  that  an  oath  extracted  by  violence 
from  any  man  cannot  subject  him  to  the  charge  of  perjury. 


93  lEarls  <!^f)xomcUt^  of  'Snglant). 

it  is  both  allowable  and  acceptable  that  we  should  freely 
acknowledge  for  king  him  whom  the  city  of  London,  the 
metropolis  of  the  kingdom,  received  without  opposition,  and 
who  founds  his  claims  on  his  lawful  right,  through  his  mother, 
the  late  king  s  sister.  We  are  also  firmly  convinced  that  by 
acknowledging  him  and  supporting  him  with  all  our  power, 
we  shall  confer  the  greatest  benefit  on  the  kingdom,  which, 
now  torn,  distracted,  and  trodden  down,  will  in  the  very  crisis 
of  its  fate  be  restored  to  order,  by  the  efforts  of  a  man  of 
firmness  and  valour,  who  being  exalted  by  the  power  of  his 
adherents  and  the  wisdom  of  his  brothers,  whatever  was 
wanting  in  himself  would  be  fully  supplied  by  their  aid.'" 

This  minute  report  of  a  debate  in  council  suggests 
strongly  either  that  the  writer  was  actually  present, 
or  that  he  had  very  special  means  of  information  as 
to  what  took  place.  It  is  true,  historians  of  all  ages 
introduce  occasionally  into  their  works  made-up 
harangues  and  speeches  ;  but  in  this  case  we  have  a 
set  of  arguments  and  counter-arguments  which  we 
have  no  reason  to  doubt  were  actually  advanced 
on  the  one  side  and  on  the  other,  leading  to  an 
ultimate  decision  in  favour  of  the  coronation  of 
Stephen.  In  substance,  moreover,  the  proceedings 
of  this  council  are  confirmed  by  other  authorities  ; 
and  the  graphic  touch  about  the  impious  king 
Henry  I.  and  his  voice  of  thunder  has  a  value  of  its 
own  not  to  be  overlooked.  We  see,  under  any  cir- 
cumstances, how  slender  were  the  guarantees  by 
which  the  succession,  even  of  the  lineal  heir,  could 
be  secured  in  those  days,  and  yet,  how  important  it 
was  felt  to  be  that  the  election  of  the  new  sovereign 
should  not  be  ratified  by  the  religious  rite  of  con- 


^tt0  of  ^tepjen, 


secration  without  a  full  investigation  of  his  preten- 
sions and  an  assurance  that  no  past  pledges  should 
be  violated. 

The  archbishop  anointed  and  consecrated 
Stephen,  and  almost  all  the  great  men  of  England 
then  did  homage  to  him,  notwithstanding  the  oath 
they  had  taken  to  Maud  in  the  lifetime  of  her 
father.  Even  her  half-brother  Robert,  Earl  of 
Gloucester,  though  he  afterwards  supported  her 
cause  so  warmly,  took  the  oath  and  was  received 
into  favour,  and  his  submission  was  followed  by 
that  of  almost  all  the  rest  of  England.  The  new 
king,  it  would  seem,  began  well.  "  In  tranquillising 
the  kingdom  and  consolidating  its  peace,  he  was 
courteous  and  obliging  to  all  men  ;  he  restored  the 
exiles  to  their  estates ;  in  conferring  ecclesiastical 
dignities  he  was  free  from  the  sin  of  simony ;  and 
justice  was  administered  without  bribe  or  reward. 
He  treated  with  respect  churchmen  of  all  ages  and 
ranks ;  and  so  kind  and  gentle  was  his  demeanour 
that,  forgetful  of  his  royal  dignity,  on  many  occa- 
sions he  gave  way,  in  others  he  put  himself  on  an 
equality  with,  and  sometimes  even  seemed  to  be 
inferior  to,  his  subjects."  But  the  pacification  of 
England  proved  to  be  no  very  easy  matter.  First, 
the  Welsh  were  troublesome,  and  he  sent  out  an 
ineffectual  expedition  against  them.  Then  Baldwin 
de  Rivers  rose  at  Exeter ;  but  the  king  laid  siege  to 
the  city,  and  after  reducing  it  to  the  last  extremities 
at  length  allowed  the  emaciated  garrison,  dying  of 
thirst,  to  march  out  with  arms  and  property  and 


94  lEarls  ©j^ronkler^  of  lEnglant). 

take  service  with  whatever  other  lord  they  pleased. 
Baldwin  himself  had  meanwhile  withdrawn  into  the 
Isle  of  Wight,  which  was  a  part  of  his  territories, 
and  fortified  himself  there  in  a  castle,  probably 
Carisbrooke,  which  he  had  stocked  with  an  abundant 
supply  of  provisions.  "  But  by  the  interposition  of 
Providence,"  says  our  author,  *'  the  springs  had  been 
dried  up  by  a  sudden  drought,  and  Baldwin  and  his 
adherents,  embarking  in  a  fresh  struggle  with  the 
king,  were  utterly  ruined."  He  was  driven  into 
exile,  and  took  refuge  with  Henry,  count  of  Anjou, 
the  son  of  the  empress  Maud. 

The  narrative  here  begins  to  speak  of  the  king^s 
measures  against  Normandy,  but  owing  to  the 
mutilation  of  the  manuscript  the  account  of  his 
recovery  of  that  duchy  is  lost.  The  scene  accord- 
ingly shifts  to  the  siege  of  Bedford,  which  is  held 
by  Miles  de  Beauchamp  against  the  king  in  1138, 
but  is  reduced  by  famine.  Then  comes  an  account 
of  the  irruption  of  the  Scots,  but  another  mutilation 
deprives  us  of  this  author's  account  of  the  battle  of 
the  Standard.  The  story  is  resumed  with  the 
rebellion  at  Bristol,  under  Earl  Robert  of  Gloucester, 
and  goes  on  to  show  how  the  king  garrisoned  Bath, 
and  after  abandoning  the  intention  of  besieging 
Bristol  itself,  reduced  some  other  fortresses ;  and 
once  more  the  manuscript  breaks  off  abruptly.  It 
is  worth  noticing,  however,  at  this  part  of  the  nar- 
rative, that  our  author  gives  brief  descriptions  both 
of  Bristol  and  Bath,  which  are  of  considerable 
interest ;  and  what  he  says  of  the  former  city  will 


^ct0  of  5^tep5ett.  95 


enable  us  to  realise  the  strength  of  Earl  Robert's 
position : — 

"  Bristol  is  the  most  opulent  city  of  all  those  parts,  as  its 
shipping  brings  merchandise  to  it  from  the  neighbouring 
coasts  and  from  foreign  parts.  It  is  situated  in  the  most 
fertile  part  of  England,  and  its  position  is  stronger  than  that 
of  any  other  town.  Like  what  we  read  of  Brundusium,  it 
stands  where  a  tongue  of  land,  extending  between  two  rivers 
which  wash  it  on  both  sides,  forms  a  flat  at  the  confluence 
of  the  rivers,  on  which  the  city  is  built.  The  tide  flows  fresh 
and  strong  from  the  sea  every  day  and  night,  and  draws  back 
the  waters  of  the  river  on  both  sides  of  the  city,  forming  a 
basin  in  which  a  thousand  ships  can  conveniently  and  safely 
ride,  and  so  encompassing  the  circuit  of  the  town  that  it  may 
be  said  to  float  on  the  waters,  and  appears  in  every  quarter 
to  touch  the  river  banks.  On  one  side,  where  it  lies  more 
open  to  attack,  the  castle  stands  on  a  raised  mound,  fortified 
with  a  wall,  and  outworks  and  towers,  and  furnished  with 
engines  of  various  kinds  to  defend  it  against  assaults." 

Our  author  next  recounts  the  story  of  the  breach 
between  the  king  and  the  three  bishops  who  had 
been  the  leading  ministers  of  Henry  I.,  and  how  the 
king  laid  hands  on  them  and  forced  them  to  surren- 
der their  castles.  A  period  of  anarchy  and  violence 
ensues,  in  the  midst  of  which  the  Empress  Maud, 
or,  as  this  writer  invariably  calls  her,  the  Countess 
of  Anjou,  lands  with  her  brother  Robert,  Earl  of 
Gloucester,  at  Arundel.  Various  rebellious  barons 
are  encouraged  by  the  event ;  and  though  the  king 
meets  the  danger  with  great  intrepidity,  his  success 
is  only  partial.  While  the  king  defeats  the  rebels 
in  some  quarters,  rebel  forces  besiege  the  king's 
troops    elsewhere,    and    capture    garrisons.      The 


9^  lEarlg  €5ronifkt0  of  lEnglanl). 

bishop  of  Ely  takes  arms  against  the  king,  and 
attempts  to  hold  against  him  the  whole  Isle  of 
Ely,  at  that  time  considered  an  impregnable  for- 
tress, as  being  accessible  only  by  a  narrow  road 
through  the  water,  defended  by  a  strong  castle. 
But  one  of  the  monks,  as  it  was  believed,  played 
traitor  to  the  bishop,  and  suggested  to  the  king 
another  mode  by  which  the  island  might  be  entered. 
A  bridge  of  boats  was  formed  where  the  current 
seemed  most  slack ;  and  after  the  king's  men  had 
crossed  the  main  stream  by  this  bridge,  they  forded 
the  adjoining  marshes  under  the  monk's  guidance. 
The  traitor  received  his  reward.  "  We  saw  him 
afterwards,"  says  our  author,  "  thanks,  not  to  St. 
Peter's  key  but  to  Simon's,  admitted  into  the 
church  and  made  abbot  of  Ramsey  ;  and  we  know 
that  afterwards  he  was  subject  to  much  trouble 
and  affliction,  the  Almighty  justly  punishing  secret 
offences  on  account  of  his  unlawful  intrusion  into 
the  church." 

The  king  is  described  as  continually  moving 
about  to  meet  his  enemies,  drawn  at  one  time  into 
Cornwall,  at  another  back  into  Lincoln.  Nor  do 
his  enemies  constitute  anything  like  a  united 
party.  Individual  nobles  take  castles  for  their  own 
benefit,  and  refuse  to  give  them  up  to  others,  either 
for  king  or  empress.  At  Lincoln  the  king  is  taken 
prisoner  by  Earl  Robert,  who  carries  him  off  to 
Bristol.  Maud  is  proclaimed  queen  in  London, 
but  on  her  making  exorbitant  demands  on  the 
citizens  a  plot  is  formed  against  her,  and  she  makes 


gCct^  of  ^tcpjb^n.  97 


a  precipitate  flight.  Stephen's  queen  causes  a 
reaction  in  his  favour,  and  even  gains  over  his  wary 
and  cautious  brother,  the  bishop  of  Winchester; 
but  not  trusting  him  entirely  she  seizes  the  city  of 
Winchester  herself,  which  is  then  besieged  by 
the  Earl  of  Gloucester,  and  othe  rs,  while  the  queen 
and  the  bishop  bring  men  from  all  parts  to  harass 
the  besiegers.  "  All  England,"  says  the  writer,  "  was 
there  in  arms  with  a  great  conflux  of  foreigners." 
The  struggle  is  a  critical  one,  and  the  besiegers 
find  it  necessary  to  raise  a  fort  at  Wherwell,  six 
miles  off",  a  place  where  there  is  a  nunnery.  But 
while  doing  so  they  are  attacked  by  the  king's 
party,  and  driven  into  the  church,  which  is  deserted 
and  set  on  fire.  The  king's  enemies  are  forced  to 
surrender,  unconditionally,  while  the  flames  burst 
forth  from  the  roof  of  the  monastery,  and  the 
nuns,  compelled  to  turn  out  for  their  lives,  fill  the 
air  with  shrieks  and  lamentations.  The  siege  of 
Winchester  is  abandoned,  the  besiegers  driven  away 
in  shameful  rout,  the  earl  of  Gloucester  taken 
prisoner,  and  the  king  once  more  set  at  liberty. 

Such  is  a  brief  outline  of  the  contents  of  the 
first  book  of  this  very  spirited  narrative.  In  the 
second  the  story  is  carried  down  to  the  arrival  of 
Henry,  afterwards  Henry  H.,  in  England  ;  so  that, 
but  for  the  mutilation  of  the  manuscript,  this  work 
would  have  contained  a  complete  account  of  nearly 
the  whole,  or  perhaps  actually  the  whole  reign  of 
Stephen.  The  most  interesting  incident  in  the 
second  part  is  the  escape  of  Maud,  when  besieged 

ENG.  il 


98  lEarlfi  ©j^ronicUr^  of  lEnglanlJ, 

at  Oxford  by  the  king,  over  the  frozen  Thames, 
while  the  country  was  white  with  snow. 

"What  was  very  remarkable,  and  indeed  truly  miraculous, 
she  crossed  dryshod,  and  without  wetting  her  garments,  the 
very  waters  into  which  the  king  and  his  troops  had  plunged 
up  to  their  neck  on  their  advance  to  attack  the  city ;  she 
passed  too  through  the  royal  posts,  while  the  silence  of  night 
was  broken  all  around  by  the  clang  of  trumpets,  and  the 
cries  of  the  guard,  without  losing  a  single  man  of  her  escort, 
and  observed  only  by  one  man  of  the  king's  troops  who  had 
been  wrought  with  to  favour  her  escape." 

For  historical  purposes,  as  Dr.  Sewell  very  justly 
points  out,  the  Historia  Novella  of  William  of 
Malmesbury  should  be  read  along  with  the  Gesta 
Stephanie  page  by  page.  "  Each,"  says  Dr.  Sewell, 
"  reflects  light  on  the  other,  and,  what  is  still  more 
extraordinary  under  such  circumstances,  each  con- 
firms the  other."  The  partisan  of  Stephen  and  the 
partisan  of  the  Earl  of  Gloucester  are  at  one  on 
almost  every  point  as  to  matters  of  fact.  And  to 
these  two  must  be  further  added  the  account  given 
of  Stephen's  reign  by  Henry  of  Huntingdon,  a  writer 
whose  sympathies,  like  those  of  Malmesbury,  are 
on  the  side  of  that  king's  enemies.  Still  there  is 
on  the  whole  a  wonderful  agreement  as  to  facts  ; 
and  even  the  moral  judgments  pronounced  by 
these  different  writers  do  not  differ  so  greatly  as 
we  should  be  naturally  led  to  expect. 

Henry  of  Huntingdon  belongs  properly  to  a 
different  class  of  writers  from  those  of  whom  we 
have  been  speaking ;  for  it  would  seem  that  he  was 


I^enrg  of  l^untingtion,  99 

not  a  monk  at  all,  and  if  we  were  to  adhere  strictly 
to  the  subject  of  this  chapter,  he  ought  not  to  be 
noticed  here.  But  of  course  we  are  treating 
generally  of  the  historical  literature  of  a  period 
when  there  were  few  but  monkish  authors,  and  it 
is  by  no  means  certain  that  we  have  not  already 
met  with  an  exception  in  the  author  of  the  Gesta 
Stephani.  In  Huntingdon,  however,  the  style  itself 
almost  seems  to  betray  a  man  of  a  different  class — 
a  lover  of  liberty,  not  tied  to  strict  rules  of  life, 
and  not  accustomed,  perhaps,  to  rigid  accuracy  of 
thought,  or  of  investigation.  His  easy,  interesting, 
and  fluent  narrative,  breaking  out  occasionally  into 
poetry,  differs  certainly  not  a  little  in  character, 
even  from  the  lively  pages  of  William  of  Malmes- 
bury.  Yet  it  is  equally  characteristic  of  the  new 
era  and  of  the  revival  of  letters  which  began  under 
Henry  Beauclerc.  For  with  all  his  warmth  of 
colouring  he  is  a  true  historian,  who  seems  to  have 
weighed  authorities  in  his  own  mind,  moralises 
upon  events,  and  draws  his  own  conclusions.  Im- 
pressed with  a  sense,  that  "  there  is  nothing  in  this 
world  more  excellent  than  accurately  to  investigate 
and  trace  out  the  course  of  worldly  affairs,"  he 
remarks  in  his  dedication  to  Alexander,  bishop  of 
Lincoln — 

'*  History  brings  the  past  to  view  as  if  it  were  piesent,  and 
enables  us  to  judge  of  the  future  by  picturing  to  ourselves  the 
past.  Besides,  the  knowledge  of  former  events  has  this 
further  preeminence,  that  it  forms  a  main  distinction  between 
brutes  and  rational  creatures.  For  brutes,  whether  they  be 
men  or  beasts,  neither  know  nor  wish  to  know,  whence  they 


loo  lEatlg  ©jbronwlcr^  of  lEnglmti. 

come,  nor  their  own  origin,  nor  the  annals  and  revolutions 
of  the  country  they  inhabit.  Of  the  two,  I  consider  men  in 
this  brutal  state  to  be  the  worst,  because  what  is  natural  in 
the  case  of  beasts,  is  the  lot  of  men  from  their  want  of  sense  ; 
and  what  beasts  could  not  acquire  if  they  would,  such  men 
will  not  though  they  could." 

In  such  fashion  does  this  author  give  utterance 
to  the  thoughts  that  were  in  him.  Even  when  he 
descends  from  the  abstract  to  the  particular,  the 
freedom  with  which  he  comments  upon  men  and 
things  is  no  less  remarkable.  He  does  not  spare 
criticism  even  of  friends  and  patrons.  In  regard 
to  facts,  however,  he  is  generally  careful,  and 
though  with  a  warm  and  imaginative  nature  he  has 
perhaps  laid  himself  open  to  the  charge  of  exaggera- 
tion here  and  there,  it  is  impossible  to  question  his 
general  fidelity.  Of  his  judgment,  moreover,  as  an 
historian,  we  are  led  to  think  highly  from  his  dis- 
criminating use  of  Bede  and  the  Anglo-Saxo7i 
Chro7iicle,  the  authorities  on  which  he  mainly  de- 
pended for  the  earlier  portion  of  his  history.  On 
the  whole,  he  gives  none  but  the  really  important 
facts,  omitting  nearly  all  the  miraculous  legends  and 
minor  incidents,  with  which  the  pages  of  the  former 
historian  abound.  At  the  same  time  it  must  be 
acknowledged  that  he  amplifies  very  considerably 
on  his  predecessors,  and  if  he  is  not  following  in 
some  places  the  guidance  of  tradition  or  of 
authorities  not  now  extant  he  must  certainly  be 
credited  with  some  use  of  the  inventive  faculty. 
His  value,  however,  as   an  historian,  is  of  course 


fl^cnrg  of  l^unttngton.  loi 


chiefly  in  relation  to  his  own  period.  But  it  is  time 
that  we  should  say  something  of  the  man  himself, 
and  his  surroundings. 

Henry  of  Huntingdon  was  the  son  of  Nicholas, 
a  distinguished  ecclesiastic  and  probably  a  dignitary 
of  the  church  at  Lincoln.  In  England  the  celibacy 
of  the  clergy  was  not  at  that  time  very  rigidly 
insisted  on,  and  Henry  himself  avows  his  origin 
without  any  show  of  sensitiveness  on  the  subject. 
The  Roman  custom,  however,  was  then  extending 
itself,  and  in  a  synod  held  at  London  in  1102  the 
clergy  were  for  the  first  time  forbidden  to  live  with 
wives.  Henry  of  Huntingdon  himself  remarks  on 
the  novelty  of  the  prohibition,  and  observes  that 
**  some  saw  danger  in  a  strictness  which,  requiring 
a  continence  above  their  strength,  might  lead  them 
to  disgrace  their  Christian  profession."  The  ordi- 
nance was  enacted  just  eight  years  before  his 
father's  death,  when  he  himself  was  probably  past 
boyhood.  There  is  some  reason  for  supposing  that 
his  father  was  his  predecessor  in  the  archdeaconry 
of  Huntingdon,  which  was  conferred  upon  him  by 
Bishop  Bloet,  on  the  death  of  an  archdeacon 
Nicholas  ;  about  which  time,  as  the  author  tells  us, 
Cambridgeshire  was  separated  from  the  see  of 
Lincoln,  and  attached  to  the  new  bishopric  of  Ely. 
Now  the  see  of  Ely  was  erected  in  1 109,  and  Henry 
of  Huntingdon  tells  us  that  his  father  died  in  1 1 10, 
so  that  the  expression  "  about  the  time  "  would  be 
correct  if  he  succeeded  his  father  Nicholas. 

As  a  child,  he  was   placed  for  his  education  in 


102  lEnrlg  ©j^roniclcr^  of  ISnglant). 

the  family  of  Robert  Bloet,  Bishop  of  Lincoln,  of 
whose  magnificent  household  he  gives  a  lively 
picture  in  his  "  Letter  to  Walter,"  an  old  friend  of 
his  youth,  written  when  both  he  and  Walter  were 
advanced  in  years.  "  I  saw,"  he  writes,  "  his  retinue 
of  gallant  knights  and  noble  youths,  his  horses  of 
price,  his  vessels  of  gold  or  of  silver  gilt,  the 
splendid  array  of  his  plate,  the  gorgeousness  of  his 
servitors,  the  fine  linen  and  purple  robes,  and  I 
thought  within  myself  that  nothing  could  be  more 
blissful.  When,  moreover,  all  the  world,  even  those 
who  had  learnt  in  the  schools  the  emptiness  of  such 
things,  were  obsequious  to  him,  and  he  was  looked 
up  to  as  the  father  and  lord  of  all,  it  was  no  wonder 
that  he  valued  highly  his  worldly  advantages.  If 
at  that  time  any  one  had  told  me  that  this  splendour 
which  we  all  admired  ought  to  be  held  in  contempt, 
with  what  face,  in  what  temper,  should  I  have  heard 
it  ?  I  should  have  thought  him  more  insensate 
than  Orestes,  more  querulous  than  Thersites.  It 
appeared  to  me  that  nothing  could  exceed  happiness 
so  exalted.  But  when  I  became  a  man,  and  heard 
the  scurrilous  language  which  was  addressed  to 
him,  I  felt  that  I  should  have  fainted  if  it  had  been 
used  to  me,  who  had  nothing,  in  such  a  presence. 
Then  I  began  to  value  less  what  I  had  before  so 
highly  esteemed." 

Henry  appears  to  have  remained  in  the  bishop's 
household  till  he  reached  manhood,  and,  it  is  said, 
received  from  him,  as  his  first  preferment,  a  canonry 
at  Lincoln.     He  speaks,  in  one  place,  of  a  certain 


?l^enrg  of  ?l^nttngtJOtt.  103 

Albinus  of  Anjou  as  his  "master,"  who,  we  may 
presume,  directed  his  studies  in  the  bishop's  house- 
hold. It  is,  probably,  the  same  person  whom  he 
mentions  again  as  "Aldwine,  my  own  master,  who 
was  Abbot  of  Ramsey."  During  those  years  he 
composed  several  books  of  epigrams,  satires,  sacred 
hymns,  and  love  poems,  which  he  afterwards  pub- 
lished with  his  more  important  works.  His  own 
talents,  aided,  perhaps,  by  the  regard  felt  for  his 
father's  memory,  marked  him  out  for  early  promo- 
tion ;  for  he  could  not  have  been  much  over  thirty 
years  old  when  he  received  the  archdeaconry. 

He  continued  in  equal  favour  with  Alexander  de 
Blois,  the  successor  of  Bishop  Bloet  in  the  see  of 
Lincoln,  at  whose  request  he  undertook  his  History 
of  the  Englishy  and  to  whom  he  dedicated  the  work. 
The  extraordinary  liberality  of  this  prelate,  when  he 
twice  visited  Rome,  gained  for  him  there  the  title 
of  "  the  Magnificent."  Henry  is  said  to  have  visited 
Rome  in  his  company,  and  Mr.  Forester,  to  whose 
biographical  preface  to  Henry  of  Huntingdon  we 
are  indebted  for  the  substance  of  these  remarks, 
thinks  he  probably  did  so  on  both  the  occasions 
when  Bishop  Alexander  went  thither.  These  were 
in  the  years  1125  and  1144.  On  the  other  hand, 
Sir  Thomas  Hardy  finds  that  he  accompanied  Arch- 
bishop Theobald,  of  Canterbury,  to  Rome,  in  1 139, 
and  on  his  way  thither  visited  Bee,  in  Normandy, 
where  he  first  saw  in  the  monastery  the  British 
History  of  Geoffrey  of  Monmouth,  of  which  work 
he  made  an  abridgment,  and  dedicated  it  to  his 


104  lEarls  ®j[)romcler0  of  lEnglanD. 


friend  Warin.  We  shall  have  something  to  say  of 
this  famous  work  hereafter. 

Mr.  Forester  considers  that  Henry  of  Hunting- 
don's History  of  the  English  was  probably  com- 
menced after  Bishop  Alexander's  return  from  his 
first  journey.  The  first  edition  only  came  down  to 
the  death  of  Henry  I.,  before  which  time  the  book 
really  contains  very  little  original  matter.  Thirteen 
years  later  he  continued  it  to  the  thirteenth  year 
of  Stephen's  reign  ;  and  after  the  death  of  Stephen 
he  added  another  continuation  to  the  accession  of 
Henry  H.  By  that  time  he  was  probably  about 
seventy  years  old,  and  it  may  be  presumed  that  he 
did  not  live  much  longer ;  for  one  manuscript  of 
the  history  ends,  just  after  the  death  of  Stephen, 
with  the  words,  "  The  accession  of  a  new  king  de- 
mands a  new  book  ; "  but  no  further  continuation, 
relating  to  the  reign  of  Henry  H.,  is  known  to 
exist. 

Among  the  passages  in  Huntingdon's  account  of 
Stephen's  reign,  which  are  specially  valuable,  may 
be  noticed  his  description  of  the  battle  of  the 
Standard,  the  details  of  which  are  not  given  so  fully 
by  any  other  strictly  contemporary  writer.  But 
perhaps  some  of  the  more  minute  touches  will  give 
a  better  notion  of  the  interest  of  this  very  impartial 
critic's  remarks  on  the  events  of  his  own  time. 
The  age,  apparently,  was  beginning  to  despise  a 
number  of  superstitions,  and  our  author  rather 
''ommends  "  the  great  resolution  of  King  Stephen," 
who  wore  his  crown  at  Lincoln  during  the  season 


fj^cnrg  of  fl^unttngtion.  105 

of  Christmas.  Although  William  the  Conqueror 
had  done  so  at  Gloucester,  there  seems  to  have  been 
some  kind  of  prejudice  against  a  king  appearing 
crowned  at  that  particular  time  of  year;  but  Stephen 
was  determined  to  show  that  he  despised  the  feel- 
ing, whatever  it  may  have  been,  that  to  do  so  was 
either  irreverent  or  unlucky.  At  the  same  time, 
our  author  relates,  as  facts,  certain  omens  which 
occurred  to  King  Stephen  just  before  the  battle  of 
Lincoln  ;  but  as  they  appear  to  have  been  reported 
to  him  by  his  friend.  Bishop  Alexander,  who  was 
present  on  the  occasion,  I  think  there  is  no  good 
reason  to  doubt  that  they  did  take  place  as  related. 
It  was  the  morning  of  Candlemas  Day,  and  Stephen 
heard  mass  with  great  devotion,  but  sorely  troubled 
in  mind,  and  anxious  about  the  issue  of  the  impend- 
ing conflict.  As  he  offered  the  usual  mass  taper  to 
the  bishop,  **it  broke,  betokening  the  rupture  of 
the  kings.  The  pix  also,  which  contained  Christ's 
body,  snapped  its  fastening,  and  fell  on  the  altar 
while  the  bishop  was  celebrating — a  sign  of  the 
king's  fall  from  power."  The  former  incident  is 
confirmed  by  the  independent  authority  of  the 
writer  of  the  Gesta  Stephaniy  and  both  occurrences 
are  natural  enough  results  of  the  great  anxiety  and 
trepidation  which  must  have  possessed  both  king 
and  bishop. 

As  contemporary  historians,  the  writers  of  whom 
we  have  just  been  speaking  are  the  most  interesting 
of  the  age  to  which  they  belonged.  In  them  we 
meet  with  close  and  minute  descriptions  of  what 


io6  lEarlj)  ®f)romflctj$  of  lEnglant). 

was  taking  place  at  the  very  time  they  wrote.  A 
much  more  voluminous  historian  was  Ordericus 
Vitalis,  who  wrote  an  elaborate  work  on  the  history 
of  Normandy  and  England,  preceded  by  a  general 
history  of  Christendom,  from  the  time  of  our  Lord 
to  his  own  day.  The  order  of  this  work,  however, 
is  rather  confused,  the  thirteen  books,  of  which  it 
is  composed,  having  been  written  at  different  times, 
and  not  even  consecutively,  as  they  now  stand. 
Moreover,  though  an  Englishman  born,  and  an 
ardent  lover  of  his  native  land,  he  was  sent  abroad 
in  boyhood  by  his  father,  and  spent  the  greater 
part  of  his  life  in  the  Abbey  of  Ouche,  in  Normandy, 
where  he  received  his  education.  He  must,  how- 
ever, have  devoted  a  large  part  of  his  life  to  his- 
torical investigation,  and  he  paid  several  visits  to 
England  for  the  purpose  of  collecting  historical 
materials.  Still,  his  account  of  English  affairs  is, 
on  the  whole,  subordinate  to  the  history  of  Nor- 
mandy, and  especially  to  ecclesiastical  history, 
which  was  his  main  object.  Nevertheless,  his  work 
is  remarkably  full  of  interest,  as  regards  both 
countries,  and  space  alone  forbids  us  to  do  it  justice. 
We  must,  therefore,  content  ourselves  with  saying 
that  the  narrative  is  throughout  wonderfully  clear 
and  vivid,  and  is,  perhaps,  not  the  less  interesting 
for  being  a  little  discursive  in  style.  The  portraits 
drawn  of  William  the  Conqueror,  and  of  his  sons, 
are  also  wonderfully  lifelike.  Particularly  striking 
is  what  he  says  of  that  extraordinary  character, 
Robert   Curthose,    Duke   of    Normandy — a    very 


C^rDcricu^  ITitatf^.  ic; 

Esau  for  improvidence,  who  first  sold  a  large  part 
of  his  birthright  to  his  younger  brother,  and  then 
lost  the  remainder  by  utter  carelessness  and  shame- 
ful maladministration.  It  seems  this  strange  pro- 
digal, even  when  nominally  reigning  over  Normandy, 
so  wasted  his  means  that  he  absolutely  sometimes 
lay  in  bed  till  midday  for  want  of  clothes,  of  which 
he  was  robbed  by  the  profligate  associates  he 
gathered  round  him. 

It  is,  doubtless,  a  great  defect  in  this  work  that 
so  little  attention  is  paid  by  the  author  to  chrono- 
logy, or,  indeed,  to  order,  or  systematic  arrange- 
ment of  any  kind.  The  work  seems  to  have  grown 
upon  the  author  while  he  was  writing,  and  with 
new  information  he  reverted  to  an  old  subject  with- 
out caring  to  digest  what  he  had  already  written 
into  a  better  order.  But  if  such  a  mode  of  treat- 
ment destroys  to  a  great  extent  the  claim  of 
Ordericus  to  be  considered  a  systematic  historian, 
he  is,  perhaps,  even  the  more  attractive  from  the 
very  fact  that  he  has  not  bestowed  too  much  thought 
on  the  art  with  which  he  tells  his  story.  A  chapter 
is  even  cut  short  in  consequence  of  the  physical 
discomfort  under  which  the  author  laboured  when 
he  was  writing  it,  and  the  further  treatment  of  the 
subject  is  postponed  to  another  day.  Thus,  after 
a  brief  account  of  the  disputes  between  Robert  of 
Normandy  and  his  brothers,  William  Rufus  and 
Henry,  he  writes  as  follows  : — 

"  The  calamities  which  threaten  the  sons  of  earth  are  end- 
less,  and  if  they  were  all  carefully  committed  to  writing  would 


io8  iEarlg  ^jfironlclcr^  of  lEnglant). 

fill  large  volumes.  It  is  now  winter,  and  I  am  suffering  from 
the  severity  of  the  cold,  and  propose  to  allow  myself  some 
respite  for  other  occupations,  and,  fatigued  with  my  work, 
shall  here  bring  the  present  book  to  a  close.  When  the  re- 
turning spring  brings  with  it  serener  skies  I  will  resume  in 
the  sequel  my  narrative  of  matters  which  I  have  hitherto 
treated  cursorily,  or  which  still  remain  to  be  told,  and,  by 
God's  help,  employ  my  faithful  pen  in  elucidating  the  causes 
of  peace  and  war  among  my  countrymen." 


CHAPTER  III. 
NEW  MONASTIC  ORDERS — THE  CRUSADES. 

Religious  revival  in  Europe — New  orders  of  monks  practising  aus- 
terity— The  Cluniacs — Carthusians — Cistercians — St.  Bernard — 
His  love  of  nature — Richard  of  Devizes — Massacre  of  the 
Jews  at  Richard  I.'s  coronation — Alleged  crucifixion  of  a  boy  by 
the  Jews  of  Winchester — Crusade  of  Richard  I.,  and  state  of  the 
kingdom  in  his  absence — Expulsion  of  the  monks  of  Coventry 
by  Bishop  Hugh  de  Nonant — ^Joceline  of  Brakelond's  account 
of  the  monastery  of  St.  Edmundsbury  under  Abbot  Sampson — 
Description  of  the  abbot — Disputes  between  the  monastery  and 
the  burgesses — Privileges  claimed  against  the  archbishop — 
Abbot  Sampson's  journey  to  Rome — He  holds  his  own  against 
the  king — Customs  and  privileges  of  the  monastery — Dispute 
with  the  monks  of  Ely. 

If  English  monasticism,  as  we  have  seen,  derived 
from  the  first  a  very  great  impulse  from  the 
Norman  Conquest,  it  was  not  long  before  new  in- 
fluences carried  over  from  the  continent  came  to 
increase  and  continue  the  movement.  The  same 
religious  zeal  which  in  one  form  aroused  all  Europe 
and  called  the  martial  spirits  of  the  age  to  rescue 
Jerusalem  from  the  hands  of  Pagans  spoke  less 
obtrusively  to  many  a  quiet  soul  urging  him  to  a 
not  less  arduous  warfare,  whose  aim  was  to  subdue 


no  HEarlg  <2PJron{clcr^  of  lEnglanU. 

the  flesh  by  fasting  and  prayer  in  the  company  of 
brethren  endowed  with  a  kindred  zeal. 

The  monasteries  of  England  in  early  times  do 
not  appear  to  have  been  placed  under  any  common 
rule  or  order.  It  is  probable  that  their  discipline 
was  most  effective  in  the  north,  where  monasticism, 
planted  originally  by  Irish  and  Scottish  mission- 
aries, had  been  almost  the  only  means  of  dissemin- 
ating Christianity.  In  the  south  there  was  a  strong 
tendency  to  convert  monastic  settlements  into 
colleges  of  secular  clergy.  St.  Dunstan  introduced 
the  rule  of  St.  Benedict,  with  modifications  adapted 
to  the  English  climate  and  mode  of  life  ;  but  his 
work  was  very  nearly  overthrown  even  during  his 
own  lifetime.  The  Benedictine  rule,  however,  was 
finally  established,  and  the  Normans  at  their 
coming  found  it  univ^ersally  acknowledged.  A  new 
rule,  however,  does  not  of  itself  beget  the  zeal  to 
promote  its  own  observance ;  and  discipline  had 
greatly  relaxed  before  the  conquest,  when  Lanfranc 
found  it  necessary  to  institute  another  reformation. 

But  now  there  rose  up  on  the  continent  of 
Europe  new  forms  of  religious  life,  which,  after  a 
time  found  their  way  into  England  also.  New 
orders,  all  framed  in  the  same  spirit,  invited  men 
to  a  life  of  labour  and  austerity,  more  truly  in 
accordance,  as  it  was  supposed,  with  the  original 
design  of  St.  Benedict ;  and  monasteries  began  to 
spring  up,  bearing  such  names  as  Cluniac,  Cister- 
cian, Carthusian,  and  the  like,  indicative  of  the 
different  forms  of  this  religious  revival. 


i^cto  JWona^tic  OrtecjJ.  iii 

It  was  far  from  true,  however,  that  the  sentiment 
which  gave  birth  to  these  new  institutions  was  that 
of  the  founder  of  the  Benedictine  rule.  St.  Bene- 
dict intended  his  followers  to  labour  hard,  but  not 
to  subject  their  bodies  to  an  unnatural  strain.  He 
allowed  his  monks  a  plentiful  diet,  restricted  only 
in  quality  and  in  the  amount  of  animal  food,  with 
a  large  discretion  to  the  head  of  every  monastery 
to  allow  special  indulgences  even  in  that.  He 
prescribed  no  distinctive  clothing,  but  left  the  vest- 
ments to  be  regulated  by  the  abbot  according  to 
the  climate  and  the  custom  of  the  country.  Not 
so  the  new  orders  which  now  began  to  be  promul- 
gated. Scanty  meals,  long  hours  of  labour,  and  a 
strict  rule  of  dress  were  essential  features  of  their 
institution. 

Of  all  these  movements  France  (or  at  least  the 
region  that  we  call  France  nowadays)  was  the 
common  parent.  A  warm  but  not  relaxing  climate 
enabled  zealous  reformers  to  institute  austerities 
till  then  unknown  and  not  easily  to  be  maintained 
in  other  regions.  And  France  was  assuredly  in 
this  age  the  religious  centre  of  Christendom.  In  it 
was  held  the  great  council  that  first  summoned 
Europe  to  arms  against  the  infidels,  and  no  less 
than  four  of  the  French  kings  were  engaged  per- 
sonally in  the  Crusades.  Whatever  movement 
stirred  the  thoughts  of  men  in  matters  of  religion, 
whether  it  tended  to  heresy  as  in  the  case  of  the 
Albigenses,  or  to  new  forms  of  observance  in  con- 
nection with  the  Church  Catholic,  was  sure  at  this 
time  to  take  its  rise  in  France. 


112  lEadg  ©j^ronickrjl  of  lEnglanD. 

The  oldest  of  these  orders  was  the  Cluniac, 
which  began  in  Burgundy  in  the  beginning  of  the 
tenth  century,  but  was  not  introduced  into  England 
till  eleven  years  after  the  Conquest.  It  arose  simply 
from  the  efforts  of  successive  Abbots  of  Clugny  to 
correct  what  was  thought  remiss  in  the  keeping 
of  St.  Benedict's  rule.  But  as  regards  England 
this  order  is  of  comparatively  little  importance. 
The  number  of  priories  and  cells  in  connection  with 
it  was  ultimately  twenty-seven  ;  but  they  were  all 
subject  to  foreign  houses,  they  had  more  French 
than  English  inmates,  their  priors  were  elected  by 
foreigners,  and  almost  every  point  in  their  govern- 
ment was  submitted  to  the  decision  of  the  foreign 
abbots,  who  likewise  were  their  visitors. 

The  Carthusians,  though  they  had  even  fewer 
houses  in  England,  were  of  somewhat  greater  conse- 
quence. Instituted  about  the  year  1080,  they  were 
first  introduced  into  this  country  exactly  a  cen- 
tury later.  St.  Bruno,  their  founder,  had  chosen  an 
abode  for  them  at  the  Grande  Chartreuse,  in  Dau- 
phind,  an  almost  inaccessible  spot,  high  up  among 
the  mountains,  surrounded  by  cataracts,  and  fearful 
precipices,  now  covered  with  thick  forests.  In  this 
truly  awful  seclusion  their  severely  self-denying 
rule  forbade  them  even  to  eat  flesh  at  all,  and 
compelled  them  to  fast  once  a  week  on  bread, 
water,  and  salt,  for  a  whole  day.  They  wore  a  hair 
shirt  next  the  skin,  and  were  only  once  a  week 
indulged  in  a  walk  round  the  grounds  of  the  mon- 
astery ;  for  beyond  the  precincts  of  his  own  house 


i^chj  i^ona^tic  C^rticr^,  113 

no  monk  of  this  order  was  ever  permitted  to  go, 
except  only  the  prior  or  proctor  of  the  monastery, 
and  even  these  only  on  the  necessary  affairs  of  the 
house  itself. 

The  monks  of  this  order  wore  a  white  habit 
covered  by  a  black  cloak.  Only  nine  Carthusian 
houses  were  ever  erected  in  England,  the  most 
famous  of  which — the  well-known  Charterhouse  of 
London — was  not  founded  till  the  end  of  Edward 
the  Third's  reign.  The  English  name  Charterhouse 
was  a  corruption  of  the  French  Chartreuse,  and 
was  applied  to  all  the  monasteries  of  this  order. 

A  more  important,  and  far  more  numerous  order 
was  that  of  the  Cistercians,  or  White  Monks,  so 
called  from  the  white  cassocks  which  they  habitu- 
ally wore,  in  marked  opposition  to  the  black  habits 
of  the  older  orders.  The  parent  house  of  this 
order  was  at  Cistertium  or  Citeaux  in  Burgundy, 
founded  in  1098,  by  one  Robert,  formerly  abbot  of 
Moleme.  But  the  order  attained  its  fullest  develop- 
ment under  St.  Bernard,  abbot  of  Clairvaux.  This 
wonderful  enthusiast,  when  only  twenty-two  years 
old,  had  knocked  for  admittance  at  the  door  of 
Citeaux  monastery,  along  with  some  thirty  com- 
panions, whom  the  power  of  his  preaching  had 
induced  to  seek  a  religious  life.  The  attractions 
of  Citeaux  at  that  time,  were,  that  the  monks  ate 
but  one  meal  a  day,  and  that  only  twelve  hours 
after  rising  from  their  hard  beds  ;  that  they  worked 
hard  in  the  fields,  yet  never  tasted  animal  food, 
not  even  fish,  grease,  or  eggs ;  and  that  milk  was 
ENG.  I 


114  lEarls  ©jbroniclcr^  of  l£ng(anl>. 

allowed  them  only  as  an  occasional  luxury.  In 
this  hard  warfare  with  the  flesh  they  had  at  first 
been  cheered  by  the  favour  of  the  great.  Two  dukes 
of  Burgundy  had  successively  patronized  them, 
and  attended  their  services  on  great  festivals.  But 
the  abbot  who  now  reigned — an  Englishman,  by 
name  Stephen  Harding — considering  the  visits 
of  great  men  with  their  retinues  as  a  discourage- 
ment to  devotion,  had  made  it  known  that  he 
declined  to  receive  them  in  future ;  so  the  monks 
were  left  to  practice  their  austerities  unregarded  by 
the  world,  except  so  far  as  a  similar  spirit  could 
prompt  men  like  St.  Bernard  and  his  friends  to 
seek  them  out. 

And  truly,  but  for  this  accession  of  new  zeal  the 
little  community  stood  in  danger  of  gradually 
perishing  off  the  face  of  the  earth ;  for  the  abbot 
had  taken  what,  humanly  speaking,  might  be  con- 
sidered the  best  means  to  repel  new-comers.  St. 
Bernard,  however,  was  a  fountain  of  enthusiasm  in 
himself.  So  earnestly  had  he  preached,  even 
before  coming  to  Citeaux,  the  advantages  of  a 
monastic  life,  that  wives  and  mothers  had  much 
ado  to  prevent  their  families  being  broken  up  by 
the  influence  of  the  young  man's  eloquence.  And 
now,  having  taken  up  his  abode  within  that  mon- 
astery with  thirty  other  novices,  the  fame  of  the 
place  spread  so  rapidly,  and  so  many  applicants 
for  admission  followed  his  example,  that  Citeaux 
could  not  contain  them  all.  Two  detachments  had 
to  be  sent  off  successively  under  the  guidance  of 


M(^  0iom^tic  (SrUctjJ, 


older  monks  to  found  new  monasteries  elsewhere  ; 
and  only  two  years  after  St.  Bernard's  arrival  the 
formation  of  a  third  colony  had  become  absolutely 
necessary.  Abbot  Stephen  found  no  one  so  fit 
to  take  the  rule  of  this  new  community  as  this 
young  man  of  twenty-four  ;  and  Bernard  was  sent 
with  twelve  associates  to  found  another  monastery 
in  the  valley  of  Clairvaux,  not  far  from  Chaumont. 
There  in  the  midst  of  dense  and  lonely  woods  the 
little  fellowship  built  with  their  own  hands  a  rude 
fabric,  preserved  for  centuries  after  by  the  venera- 
tion of  St.  Bernard's  followers,  in  the  state  in  which 
he  left  it.  It  consisted  of  a  chapel,  dormitory,  and 
refectory,  all  under  a  single  roof,  the  dormitory 
being,  in  fact,  a  loft,  reached  by  a  ladder,  over  the 
refectory.  There  was  no  floor  but  the  bare  earth  ; 
the  windows  were  scarcely  broader  than  a  man's 
hand  ;  the  abbot's  cell,  at  the  top  of  the  attic,  was 
a  chamber  in  which  no  one  could  even  sit  upright. 

To  St.  Bernard  self-denial  was  a  luxury ;  and  it 
was  certainly  owing  to  the  example  of  his  energy 
and  fervour  that  the  order  soon  attained  its  world- 
wide popularity.  In  1129  the  first  Cistercian  house 
in  this  country  was  established  at  Waverley,  in 
Surrey.  Two  years  later  Tintern  was  founded  on 
the  Wye,  in  Monmouthshire ;  and  in  a  very  few 
years  after,  Rievalle,  Furness,  Kirkstall,  Fountains, 
and  a  large  number  of  others.  The  number  of 
houses  of  this  order  in  England  ultimately  reached 
one  hundred  and  one.  Their  remains  exist  at  this 
day,  the  most  interesting  and  the  most  beautiful 


ii6  lEatlg  CTfjrontclcr^  of  lEnglant) 


of  all  monastic  ruins.  It  is  not  merely  the  grace  and 
lightness  of  the  architecture  that  distinguish  their 
roofless  fabrics  above  all  others.  The  situation 
and  scenery  around  are  generally  more  attractive. 
Who  is  not  lost  in  wonder  at  the  loveliness  of 
Tintern  in  the  midst  of  its  charming  valley,  its 
unglazed  windows  serving  as  framework  to  the 
most  exquisite  of  natural  pictures  ?  Who  has  not 
felt  the  fascination  of  Melrose  to  be  enhanced  by 
the  beauties  of  the  Tweed?  The  very  names  of 
Furness,  Kirkstall,  Fountains,  recall  images  of 
natural  scenery  no  less  than  of  romantic  ruins. 
Rarely,  indeed,  does  any  one  visit  a  Cistercian 
abbey  without  being  struck  by  the  situation  and 
surroundings,  as  well  as  by  the  picturesque  remains 
themselves. 

Nor  is  this  a  mere  accident  of  fate.  The  love 
of  nature  was  strong  in  St.  Bernard,  and  he  com- 
municated it  to  his  followers.  "  Believe  me,"  he 
said  to  one  of  his  pupils  in  a  passage  which  Shak- 
speare  may  almost  be  thought  to  have  had  in  his 
mind  at  one  time,  "  you  will  find  something  far 
greater  in  the  woods  than  you  will  in  books. 
Stones  and  .trees  will  teach  you  that  which  you 
will  never  learn  from  masters.  Think  you  not  you 
cart  suck  honey  from  the  rock,  and  oil  from  the 
flinty  rock  ?  Do  not  the  mountains  drop  sweet- 
ness, the  hills  run  with  milk  and  honey,  and  the 
valleys  stand  thick  with  corn  .?  "  By  this  teaching 
the  Cistercians  v/ere  encouraged  to  take  up  their 
abodes  in  solitary  places  far  away  from  the  haunts 


4^etD  iHonastic  ©rtjctg*  117 

of  men.  Tlie  old  Benedictine  monasteries  had 
generally  been  built  just  outside  the  walls  of  towns, 
or  had  gathered  towns  about  them ;  but  the 
Cistercians  were  dependent  on  grants  of  land  in 
remote  districts  where  human  labour  had  not  yet 
developed  the  resources  of  the  soil.  To  this  day, 
the  vicinity  of  a  Cistercian  monastery  is  generally 
somewhat  secluded,  though  rich  and  beautiful  with 
a  cultivation  which  the  monks  were  the  first  to 
introduce. 

The  love  of  nature  in  St.  Bernard  was  not  com- 
bined with  a  love  of  art  or  literature.  Against 
these  things  he  rather  set  his  face,  as  out  of  keep- 
ing with  the  work  his  followers  had  to  do.  The 
magnificent  fabrics  of  the  order  all  belong  to  the 
succeeding  age,  when  prosperity  had  brought  with 
it  tastes  and  sentiments  rather  at  variance  with 
those  in  which  the  order  originated.  The  main 
object  which  it  was  sought  to  enforce  was  purity. 
All  their  monasteries  were  dedicated  to  the  Virgin 
Mary.  No  meretricious  ornaments,  no  rich  paintings, 
or  stained  glass,  or  sculptures  were  to  allure  the 
eye.  Nor  was  it  desirable  to  form  extensive 
libraries ;  the  work  of  the  Cistercians  was  not  to 
be  in  the  cloister  or  the  scriptorium,  but  in  the 
fields. 

Early  in  their  history,  however,  their  popularity 
began  to  decline.  Slenderly  endowed  at  first 
with  lands  which  had  not  yet  been  turned  to 
good  account,  it  was  only  by  the  exercise  of  the 
strictest  parsimony  that  they  could  live  and  keep 


ii8  ^arlg  ©j^ronicUr^  of  lEnglanU. 

up  hospitality.  This  made  them  a  little  more 
eager  than  was  becoming  in  soHciting  new  endow- 
ments. "  None  were  more  greedy,"  says  Mr. 
Brewer,  "  in  adding  farm  to  farm  ;  none  less  scru- 
pulous in  obtaining  grants  of  land  from  wealthy 
patrons  ;  and,  what  was  far  worse,  in  appropriating 
the  tithes  and  endowments  of  parish  churches,  and 
pulling  down  the  sacred  edifices  to  suit  their  own 
interests."  It  was  in  vain  that  they  attempted  to 
justify  acts  like  these  by  a  hospitality  to  strangers, 
which  contrasted  strangely  with  their  own  abste- 
mious life.  The  greed  of  the  Cistercians  became  a 
byword  ;  and  as  various  causes  besides  contributed 
to  a  relaxation  of  discipline,  they  became  the  mark 
of  bitter  satire. 

These  were  the  principal  orders  of  monks.  But 
it  was  not  only  monks,  in  the  proper  sense  of  the 
word,  that  began  at  this  time  to  adopt  new  rules 
of  life.  The  monks  were  laymen  ;  but  the  clergy 
also  began  to  form  themselves  into  orders,  and  to 
live  together  in  monasteries.  Even  the  men  of 
war  had  their  military  orders,  and  formed  commu- 
nities by  themselves  after  the  manner  of  the  monks. 
It  is  not  necessary,  however,  to  do  more  than  men- 
tion the  names  of  the  Augustinian  and  Premonstra- 
tensian  Canons,  as  examples  of  the  former  class  ; 
and  of  the  two  great  military  orders,  the  Knights 
Templars  and  the  Knights  of  St.  John  of  Jeru- 
salem, otherwise  called  the  Knights  Hospitallers. 
These  latter  of  course  originated  in  the  days  of 
the   Crusades.      The    Augustinian    Canons    were 


£ltto  i^ona^ttc  ©rtim.  119 


founded  just  before,  but  even  they  did  not  come 
to  England  till  the  reign  of  Henry  I. 

Thus  it  will  be  seen  that  for  more  than  a  century 
after  the  Conquest  the  religious  life  of  Europe  and 
of  England  was  continually  seeking  new  forms  of 
manifestation.  The  fact  has  left  its  mark  upon 
the  literature  of  the  time,  but  perhaps  indirectly 
quite  as  much  as  otherwise.  For  the  new  orders 
generally  were  not  literary,  certainly  not  so  much 
so,  on  the  whole,  as  their  predecessors,  the  Bene- 
dictines. The  great  monasteries  of  St.  Alban's,  Dur- 
ham, and  Croyland,  long  after  the  rise  of  these  nev/ 
orders,  had  their  separate  schools  of  historians  ; 
nor  was  William  of  Malmesbury  without  successors, 
although  anonymous  ones,  in  his  own  house.  No 
such  continuous  writing  of  history  is  found  to  have 
occupied  the  inmates  of  smaller  and  more  modern 
establishments.  The  very  severities  they  practised 
— among  other  things  the  revival  of  the  old  mo- 
nastic rule  of  daily  manual  labour  in  the  fields — 
were  unfavourable  to  literary  activity.  The  old 
monasteries,  too,  remained  the  great  centres  of 
intelligence,  and  had  better  opportunities  of  col- 
lecting information,  in  the  first  instance,  than  the 
men  who  occupied  Cistercian  or  Carthusian  cells. 
Nevertheless,  even  the  Cistercians  made  some  con- 
tributions to  historical  literature  ;  and  the  very 
interesting  chronicle  of  Richard  of  Devizes,  though 
not  actually  the  work  of  a  Carthusian,  may  almost 
be  considered  as  an  offspring  of  Carthusian  zeal. 

This  writer  was,  as  a  matter  of  fact,  only  a  monk 


I20  lEarlg  ®i)ron{fIerj{  of  lEn^IanU. 

of  the  old  cathedral  priory  of  St.  Svvithin's,  Win- 
chester, which,  like  other  foundations  of  the  same 
kind,  was  of  the  Benedictine  Order.  But  Robert, 
prior  of  St.  Swithin's,  had  caught  the  enthusiasm 
of  the  times,  and,  giving  up  his  priory  at  Win- 
chester, had  joined  himself  to  the  newly  established 
Charterhouse  at  Witham,  in  Somersetshire.  It 
was  but  ten  years  since  this,  the  parent  house  of 
the  Carthusian  order  in  England,  had  been  founded 
by  virtue  of  a  grant  from  Henry  II.,  and  great 
was  the  anxiety  of  religious  persons  to  be  assured 
of  the  success  of  the  experiment.  After  the  re- 
tirement of  Prior  Robert  from  Winchester,  three 
monks  of  his  old  monastery  went  to  visit  him  at 
Witham ;  and  among  the  three  was  Richard  of 
Devizes.  The  visit  inspired  him  with  an  ardent 
wish  to  join  the  new  community  himself,  and 
having  arrived  at  Witham,  he  would  have  stayed 
there  but  for  the  persuasions  of  his  two  brother 
monks,  who  insisted  on  his  return.  "  I  came,"  he 
said,  "  and  oh  that  I  had  come  alone !  I  went 
thither,  making  the  third,  and  those  that  were  with 
me  were  the  cause  of  my  return.  My  desire  dis- 
pleased them,  and  they  caused  my  fervour,  I  will  not 
say  my  error,  to  grow  cold.  I  saw  in  your  establish- 
ment that  which  I  had  not  believed,  and  I  could 
not  sufficiently  admire.  In  each  of  your  cells  there 
is  one  door,  according  to  rule,  which  you  are  per- 
mitted to  open  at  pleasure ;  but  to  go  out  by  it  is 
not  permitted,  except  so  much  as  that  one  foot 
should  always  remain  in  the  cell  within  the  thres- 


l^icl^arb  of  Wthiit^,  121 

hold.  A  brother  may  step  out  with  one  foot,  which- 
ever he  pleases,  so  long  as  the  other  remains  in  the 
cell.  A  great  and  solemn  oath  is  to  be  taken  that 
the  doors  should  be  kept  open,  by  which  it  is  not 
permitted  to  enter  or  depart." 

These  words  are  addressed  by  our  author  to  his 
former  prior  in  dedicating  to  him  a  history  of  the 
reign  of  Richard  I.,  undertaken  in  obedience  to  his 
request.  For  though  Prior  Robert  had  withdrawn 
more  completely  from  the  world,  he  still  had  his 
eye  upon  it,  and  took  the  strongest  possible  interest 
in  what  was  doing  in  it.  Indeed,  this  fact  seems 
to  have  struck  Richard  of  Devizes  as  not  a  little 
noteworthy,  both  in  him  and  in  the  brethren  at 
Witham  generally.  "  I  cannot  but  admire,"  he 
observes,  "that  living  to  yourselves  apart  out  of 
society,  and  singly,  you  understand  all  the  great 
things  achieved  in  the  world  as  they  happen,  and 
even  sometimes  you  know  them  prior  to  their  being 
accomplished."  But  who  could  be  so  utter  a  re- 
cluse as  to  fail  to  take  an  interest  in  the  events  of 
Cceur  de  Lion's  reign  }  Even  at  home  there  was 
a  great  revolution,  "  turning  squares  into  circles," 
as  our  author  expresses  it ;  while  abroad  there  was 
the  brilliant  expedition  of  the  crusading  king,  rich 
in  actions,  which  have  all  the  charms  of  romance 
even  to  the  present  day. 

Richard  of  Devizes  seems  to  have  been  asked 
by  his  old  prior  to  include  in  his  history  some 
account  of  the  family  troubles  of  King  Henry  II., 
and  the  dissensions  between  him  and  his  sons ;  but 


122  leads  ©JbronicUrs  of  lEnglanD. 

he  preferred  to  leave  these  great  subjects  to  other 
pens.  "  My  narrative,"  he  says,  "  serves  only  for 
the  living."  He  accordingly  begins  it  with  the 
Coronation  of  Richard  I.  at  Westminster.  The 
very  first  paragraph,  which  is  painfully  characteristic 
of  the  spirit  of  the  times,  is  perhaps  the  least  agree- 
able to  read  in  the  whole  work  : — 

"  Now,  in  the  year  of  our  Lord's  Incarnation,  1 189,  Richard, 
the  son  of  King  Henry  II.,  by  Eleanor,  brother  of  Henry 
III.,*  was  consecrated  king  of  the  English  by  Baldwin, 
Archbishop  of  Canterbury,  at  Westminster,  on  the  third  of 
the  runes  of  September  (3  Sept.).  On  the  very  day  of  the 
coronation,  about  that  solemn  hour  in  which  the  Son  was 
immolated  to  the  Father,  they  began,  in  the  city  of  London, 
to  immolate  the  Jews  to  their  father,  the  devil,  and  so  long 
was  the  duration  of  this  famous  mystery  that  the  holocaust 
could  scarcely  be  completed  on  the  second  day.  The  other 
cities  and  towns  of  the  kingdom  emulated  the  faith  of  the 
Londoners,  and  with  a  like  devotion  despatched  their  blood- 
suckers with  blood  to  hell.  Something,  although  unequally, 
was  at  that  time  prepared  against  these  abandoned  ones 
everywhere  throughout  the  realm.  Winchester  alone  spared 
its  vermin.  The  people  there  are  prudent  and  circumspect, 
and  the  city,  always  acting  mildly,  has  never  done  anything 
over  speedily ;  fearing  nothing  more  than  to  repent,  it  weighs 
the  issue  of  things  before  the  commencement.  Being  un- 
prepared, it  was  unwilling  at  its  own  peril  to  cast  up  violently 
through  the  parts  the  indigestion  by  which  it  was  oppressed, 
and  it  was  careful  for  its  own  bowels,  in  the  mean  time 
modestly  concealing  its  uneasiness,  until  it  may  be  possible, 
at  a  convenient  time  for  cure,  to  cast  out  the  whole  cause  of 
the  disease  at  once,  and  once  for  all." 

*  Henry,  the  eldest  son  of  Henry  II.,  who  died  before  his  father, 
having  been  crowned  as  king  during  his  father's  Ufetime,  is  frequently 
Btyled  Henry  III.  in  the  early  chronicles. 


i^uj^att)  of  Wtbiiea*  123 

That  a  Christian  monk,  anxious  to  find  a  rule 
of  life  which  should  most  effectually  separate  him 
from  the  wickedness  of  the  world,  could  have  per- 
mitted himself  to  write  in  such  a  fashion  of  a  whole- 
sale massacre  of  the  Jews,  is  a  fact  full  of  shame 
and  sorrow  to  all  real  lovers  of  religion.  But  as 
even  the  most  devoted  of  our  Lord's  first  followers 
"  knew  not  what  spirit  they  were  of,"  when  they 
thought  themselves  most  zealous,  so  we  must  expect 
to  find  it  will  be  to  the  end  of  time.  One  age 
may  be  more  violent ;  another,  born  under  happier 
influences,  may  be  more  gentle ;  but  as  times  of 
trial  arise  there  will  be  a  continual  danger  even 
among  the  most  devout,  of  mistaking  the  spirit  of 
persecution  for  true  devotion  to  the  Cross.  In  the 
present  case  it  is  not  altogether  difficult  to  under- 
stand the  popular  indignation.  The  Jews,  as  it 
would  appear  from  the  statements  of  other  authori- 
ties, had  been  a  little  too  obtrusive  at  the  time  of 
the  coronation.  And  what  had  the  enemies  of  the 
faith  to  do  with  such  a  solemnity?  Here  was  a 
king  sworn  before  coming  to  the  crown  to  take  up 
arms  against  the  infidels  of  the  East — a  glorious 
and  unheard-of  example ;  and  the  infidels  within 
his  own  kingdom  dared  to  press  into  his  presence, 
even  at  the  sacred  rite  of  inauguration.  They  too, 
who,  with  their  extortions  had  been  turning  the 
holy  cause  to  their  own  account  in  filthy  lucre — 
who  had  been  lending  money  at  enormous  interest 
to  those  who  wanted  it  to  equip  them  for  the  Holy 
Land.  How  could  any  one  bespeak  mercy  for 
such  caitiffs  ? 


124  Ifearls  <Jnt)ron(cIer^  of  lEn^IanD, 

Richard  of  Devizes,  at  least,  could  not.  It  is 
more  than  doubtful  whether  he  admires  what  he 
calls  the  prudence  and  foresight  of  his  own  city, 
of  Winchester,  in  never  joining  in  these  out- 
bursts of  popular  fury.  Elsewhere  he  tells  us 
that  the  Winchester  Jews  rewarded  the  clemency 
of  the  inhabitants  by  murdering  a  boy  there.  The 
story  will  strike  the  ordinary  reader  as  a  mare's 
nest ;  but  there  is  much  in  the  way  in  which  it  is 
told  well  worthy  of  observation,  and  some  inci- 
dental description  of  localities  in  England  which  is 
exceedingly  curious. 

It  was  a  common  opinion,  at  this  time,  that  the 
Jews  occasionally  crucified  Christian  children ;  and 
of  course  this  belief  lent  additional  vehemence  to 
the  persecution  which  from  time  to  time  was 
directed  against  them.  It  was  well  for  this  unfor- 
tunate race  that  however  little  sympathy  they 
met  with  from  any  class  of  Christians,  they  at  least 
had  made  themselves  useful  to  the  rulers  of  the 
world,  and  casually  received  some  slight  degree  of 
protection  in  consequence.  It  is  curious  that  our 
author,  after  describing  the  great  massacre  of  the 
Jews  at  Richard's  coronation,  goes  on  to  relate  two 
or  three  trivial  accidents  that  occurred  the  same 
day  as  so  ominous  of  misfortune  during  the  reign, 
that  men  could  only  speak  of  them  with  bated 
breath.  The  massacre  itself,  it  would  seem,  led  to 
no  such  sinister  forebodings. 

Neither  was  any  cause  of  apprehension  discovered 
in  Richard's  abandonment  of  his  own  kingdom, 


IJlicJarD  of  ^thiit^,  125 

and  of  his  duties  as  king,  for  an  object  of  quite  a 
different  character.  The  fact,  on  the  contrary, 
seemed  in  the  highest  degree  commendable.  "  A 
king,"  says  this  writer,  "worthy  of  the  name  of 
king,  who,  in  the  first  year  of  his  reign,  left  the 
kingdom  of  England  for  Christ,  scarcely  otherwise 
than  if  he  had  departed  never  to  return.  So  great 
was  the  devotion  of  the  man,  so  hastily,  so  quickly, 
and  so  speedily  did  he  run,  yea  fly,  to  avenge  the 
wrongs  of  Christ !  "  Richard,  however,  took  some 
pains,  though  more  for  the  sake  of  his  expedition 
than  of  his  subjects,  to  leave  matters  in  a  satisfac- 
tory condition  at  his  departure.  Having  received 
power  from  the  Pope  to  withdraw  the  cross  from 
any  of  his  subjects  who  had  taken  the  vow,  whom 
he  might  find  necessary  for  the  government  of  his 
kingdom,  he  appointed  Hugh  de  Pusac  or  Pudsey, 
bishop  of  Durham,  chief  justice  of  the  whole  king- 
dom, and  obtained  from  him  ten  thousand  pounds 
of  silver  as  the  price  of  his  creation  as  earl  of 
Northumberland.  It  was  the  jest  of  the  day,  this 
making  a  young  earl,  as  it  was  said,  out  of  an  old 
bishop,  to  the  king's  profit.  Sheriffs  were  deprived 
of  their  offices  on  being  accused  of  any  malversa- 
tion, and  were  glad  to  compound  for  pardon  by 
enormous  gifts.  Whoever  found  his  money  a  burden 
to  him  was  relieved  with  the  greatest  possible  faci- 
jity  ;  and  when  an  old  acquaintance  rallied  the  king 
on  his  mode  of  raising  supplies,  he  replied,  "  I  would 
sell  London  if  I  could  find  a  chapman." 

However  little  devotion  this  shows  to  the  interests 


126  Icnrls  ®ljron(cIerg  of  ?Englant). 

of  his  kingdom,  the  king  was  undoubtedly  poHtic 
as  regards  the  actual  object  that  he  had  in  view. 
He  was  equally  wise  in  his  selection  of  the  man 
who  was  to  bear  the  chief  responsibility  of  affairs 
at  home  in  his  absence.  William  de  Longchamp, 
whom  he  himself  had  appointed  bishop  of  Ely,  was 
his  chancellor,  and  was  indeed  a  faithful  servant. 
But  his  devotion  to  his  master's  interests  did  not 
help  to  make  him  popular;  and  notwithstanding 
our  author's  great  admiration  of  the  king,  he  gives 
his  minister  a  very  unpleasant  character : — 

"  William,  bishop  of  Ely,  the  king's  chancellor,  by  nature 
a  second  Jacob,  although  he  did  not  wrestle  with  the  angel, 
a  goodly  person,  making  up  in  mind  for  his  shortness  in 
stature,  secure  for  his  master's  love,  and  presuming  on  his 
favour  because  all  power  was,  is,  and  will  be,  impatient  of  a 
partner,  expelled  Hugh  de  Pusac  from  the  Exchequer,  and 
scarcely  leaving  him  even  his  sword  with  which  he  had  been 
invested  as  a  knight  by  the  king's  hand,  after  a  short  time 
deprived  him  of  the  honour  of  his  earldom  also.  And  lest 
the  bishop  of  Durham  alone  should  bewail  his  misfortunes, 
the  villain,  who  was  now  more  cruel  than  any  wild  beast,  and 
spared  nobody,  fell  Hke  a  pest  upon  the  bishop  of  Winchester 
also.  The  custody  of  the  castles  and  county  is  taken  away 
from  him,  nor  is  he  even  permitted  to  enjoy  his  own  patri- 
mony. The  kingdom  is  disturbed,  and  the  discontented  are 
charged  with  disaffection  to  the  king.  Everybody  crosses  the 
sea  to  importune  the  king  against  the  tyrant ;  but  he  having 
crossed  first  of  all,  briefly  related  before  the  king  a  partial 
account  of  his  entire  proceeding  and  expulsion  ;  by  whom 
also  he  was  fully  instructed  in  all  things  to  be  done.  He 
thus  foiled  the  adverse  wishes  of  his  rivals,  and  was  on  his 
return  before  those  who  assailed  him  could  obtain  admission 
to  the  king's  presence.     So  he  returns  to  the  English  not  less 


!atc!)arD  of  WzbiitH.  127 

powerful  and  prosperous  than  one  who  has  accomplished  all 
things  whatsoever  he  desired." 

Nevertheless,  his  rival,  the  bishop  of  Durham, 
was  for  some  time  under  a  belief  that  the  king  had 
given  him  a  commission  which  would  enable  him 
to  maintain  his  authority  as  justiciar.  The  result 
was  a  collision,  which  Richard  of  Devizes  goes  on 
to  describe  with  some  of  his  favourite  classical 
allusions  and  quotations  : — 

"  The  bishop  of  Durham   in  haste  proceeded  direct  to 
London,  but  not  being  received  by  the  barons  of  the  ex- 
chequer, he  hastily,  as  if  sure  to  triumph,  pursues  his  way 
after  the  chancellor,  who  at  that  time  had  gone  on  an  expe- 
dition towards  Lincoln  ;  whom,  having  overtaken,  he  saluted 
in  the  king's  name,  not  frankly  nor  without  a  frown,  and  then 
questioned  him  with  austerity  concerning  the  affairs  of  state, 
as  if  it  were  not  lawful  to  do  anything  without  his  consent. 
He  put  aside  fine  language  and  long  words  ;  and  while  he 
gloried  too  much  in  power  not  yet  received,  not  understand- 
ing with  whom  he  was  speaking,  he  poured  out  whatever  he 
ought  to  have  kept  secret.     At  the  conclusion  of  his  address, 
the  staff  is  put  forth  to  silence  talk,  the  king's  solemn  act 
much  to  be  reverenced  is  exhibited  for  recital.     The  moun- 
tains travail,  the  silly  mouse  is  born.     The  observance  of 
strict  silence  is  enjoined  during  the  king's  mandate ;  all  were 
hushed  and  held  their  faces  attentive.     An  epistle  is  read 
in  public,  which  would  have  been  much  more  to  be  feared  if 
it  had  not  been  read  so  soon  ;  the  other,  well  able  to  conceal 
his  device,  shrewdly  deferred  to  answer  what  he  had  heard 
till  the  seventh  day,  arranging  a  place  of  conference  at  Tick- 
hiU.     On  the  day  appointed  the  bishop  of  Durham  comes  to 
the  castle,  and  his  attendants  being  commanded  to  wait  for 
him  before  the  gates,  he  goes  in  to  the  chancellor  quite  alone ; 
he  who  before  had  held  his  peace  speaks  first,  and  compels 


128  lEarlg  ©j^tonlclcr^  of  lEnglanl). 

the  deceived  one  to  recite  with  his  own  mouth  letters  he  had 
obtained  after  the  former  against  whatever  he  had  hoped. 
As  he  was  preparing  to  answer,  he  added,  '  The  other  day, 
v/hile  you  were  speaking  it  was  time  for  me  to  be  silent  ; 
now,  that  you  may  discern  why  I  have  taken  a  time  for 
speaking,  you  being  silent,  as  my  lord  the  king  lives,  you 
shall  not  depart  hence  until  you  have  given  me  hostages  for 
all  the  castles  which  you  hold  being  delivered  up  to  me,  for 
I  do  not  take  you  as  a  bishop  a  bishop,  but  as  a  chancellor  a 
chancellor  !  *  The  ensnared  had  neither  the  firmness  nor 
the  opportunity  to  resist ;  the  hostages  are  given,  and  at  the 
term  assigned  the  castles  are  given  up  for  the  restoring  of 
the  hostages." 

Shortly  afterwards,  Richard  of  Devizes  tells  us 
of  the  struggle  William  de  Longchamp  had  to 
maintain  King  Richard's  authority  in  his  absence 
against  his  rebellious  brother  John.  But  mean- 
while the  reader's  attention  is  occupied  by  an  inte- 
resting description  of  the  equipment  of  the  king's 
fleet,  and  of  its  union  with  that  of  the  French  king 
at  Messina  : — 

"  The  ships  which  the  king  found  already  prepared  on  the 
shore  were  one  hundred  in  number,  and  fourteen  busses, 
vessels  of  very  great  magnitude  and  admirable  swiftness, 
strong  vessels  and  very  sound,  whereof  this  was  the  equipage 
and  appointment.  The  first  of  the  ships  had  three  spare 
rudders,  thirteen  anchors,  thirty  oars,  two  sails,  three  sets 
of  ropes  of  all  kinds,  and  besides  these  double  whatever  a 
ship  can  want,  except  the  mast  and  the  ship's  boat.  There 
is  appointed  to  the  ship's  command  a  most  experienced 
steersman,  and  fourteen  subordinate  attendants  picked  for 
the  service  are  assigned  him.  The  ship  is  freighted  with 
forty  horses  of  value,  trained  to  arms,  and  with  arms  of  all 
kinds  for  as  many  horsemen,  and  forty  foot,  and  fifteen  sailors, 


l^ici^arl)  of  13thiit^,  129 


andwith  an  entire  year's  provisions  for  as  many  men  and 
hol-ses.     There  was  one  appointment  for  all  the  ships,  but 
each  of  the  busses  received  a  double  appointment  and  freight. 
The  king's  treasure,  which  was  very  great  and  inestimable, 
was  divided  amongst  the  ships  and  busses,  that  if  one  part 
should   experience  danger,  the   rest   might  be  saved.     All 
things  being  thus  arranged,  the  king  himself,  with  a  small 
household,  and  the  chief  men  of  his  army,  with  his  atten- 
dants, having  quitted  the  shore,  advanced  before  the  fleet  in 
galleys,   and   being   daily   entertained   by   maritime   towns, 
taking  along  with  them  the  larger  ships  and  busses  of  that 
sea,  arrived  prosperously  at   Messina.     So  great  was  the 
splendour  of  the  approaching  armament,  such  the  clashing 
and  brilliancy  of  their  arms,   so   noble   the   sound   of  the 
trumpets  and  clarions,  that  the  city  quaked  and  was  greatly 
astounded,  and  there  came  to  meet  the  king  a  multitude  of 
all  ages,  people  without  number,  wondering  and  proclaiming 
with  what  exceeding  glory  and  magnificence  that  king  had 
arrived,  surpassing  the  King  of  France,  who,  with  his  forces, 
had  arrived  seven  days  before.     And  forasmuch  as  the  King 
of  France   had  been  already  received   into  the  palace  of 
Tancred,    King   of    Sicily,   within   the    walls,   the    King   of 
England  pitched  his  camp  without  the  city.     The  same  day, 
the  King  of  France,  knowing  of  the  arrival  of  his  comrade 
and  brother,  flies  to  his  reception  ;  nor  could  their  gestures 
sufficiently  express  in  embraces  and  kisses  how  much  each 
of  them  rejoiced  in  the  other.     The  armies   cheered  one 
another  with  mutual  applause  and  intercourse,  as  if  so  many 
thousand  men  had  been  all  of  one  heart  and  one  mind.     In 
such  pastimes  is  the  holiday  spent  until  the  evening,  and 
the  weary  kings  departing,  although   not   satiated,   return 
every  one  to  his  own  quarters." 

For  all  this,  however,  the  difference  in  character 
between  the  two  kings,  which  made  real  co-opera- 
tion impossible,  displayed  itself  almost  imme- 
diately.    As  our  author  continues  : — 

ENG.  K 


130  Icarlg  ^^roniclcv^  of  &glanl). 

"  On  the  next  day,  the  King  of  England  presently  caused 
gibbets  to  be  erected  without  the  camp  to  hang  thereon 
thieves  and  robbers.  The  judges  delegated  spared  neither 
sex  nor  age  ;  the  cause  of  the  stranger  and  the  native  found 
the  like  law  and  the  like  punishment.  The  King  of  France, 
whatever  transgression  his  people  committed,  or  whatever 
offence  was  committed  against  them,  took  no  notice  and 
held  his  peace  ;  the  King  of  England  esteeming  the  country 
of  those  implicated  in  guilt  as  a  matter  of  no  consequence, 
considered  every  man  his  own,  and  left  no  transgression  un- 
punished ;  wherefore  the  one  was  called  a  Lamb  by  the 
Griffones,  the  other  obtained  the  name  of  a  Lion." 

The  Grififones,  as  they  were  called,  a  mongrel 
race  of  Greeks  and  Saracens,  the  most  powerful 
and  warlike  people  of  that  region,  were  particularly 
troublesome.  They  favoured  the  French,  but  con- 
tinually broke  faith  with  the  English,  and  harassed 
them,  till  Philip  himself,  who  had  been  endeavour- 
ing to  arrange  terms  of  amity,  came  to  the  tent  of 
the  King  of  England  to  bear  witness  that  he  held 
him  blameless  in  taking  up  arms  to  punish  them. 
Richard  accordingly  proceeded  to  attack  the  city 
of  Messina  : — 

"  The  terrible  standard  of  the  dragon  is  borne  in  front 
unfurled,  while  behind  the  king  the  sound  of  the  trumpet 
excites  the  army.  The  sun  shone  brightly  on  the  golden 
shields,  and  the  mountains  were  resplendent  in  their  glare  ; 
they  marched  cautiously  and  orderly,  and  the  affair  was 
managed  without  show.  The  Griffones,  on  the  contrary,  the 
city  gates  being  closed,  stood  armed  at  the  battlements  of 
the  walls  and  towers,  as  yet  fearing  nothing,  and  incessantly 
discharged  their  darts  upon  the  enemy.  The  king,  acquainted 
with  nothing  better  than  to  take  cities  by  storm  and  batter 


}^icl)arti  of  ^cbi^c^*  131 

forts,  let  their  quivers  be  emptied  first,  and  then  at  length 
made  his  first  assault  by  his  archers  who  preceded  the  army. 
The  sky  is  hidden  by  the  shower  of  arrows,  a  thousand  darts 
pierce  through  the  shields  spread  abroad  on  the  ramparts  ; 
nothing  could  save  the  rebels  against  the  force  of  the  darts. 
The  walls  are  left  without  guard,  because  no  one  could  look 
out  of  doors  but  he  would  have  an  arrow  in  his  eye  before 
he  could  shut  it.  In  the  mean  time  the  king,  with  his  troops, 
without  repulse,  freely,  and  as  though  with  permission,  ap- 
proached the  gates  of  the  city,  which,  with  the  appHcation 
of  the  battering-ram,  he  forced  in  an  instant,  and,  having 
led  in  his  army,  took  every  hold  in  the  city,  even  to  Tancred's 
palace  and  the  lodgings  of  the  French  around  their  king's 
quarters,  which  he  spared  in  respect  of  the  king,  his  lord. 
The  standards  of  the  victors  are  planted  on  the  towers 
through  the  whole  circuit  of  the  city,  and  each  of  the  sur- 
rendered fortifications  he  entrusted  to  particular  captains  of 
his  army,  and  caused  his  nobles  to  take  up  their  quarters  in 
the  city." 

This  author  passes  h'ghtly  over,  or  rather  omits 
to  mention,  the  quarrels  which  arose  between 
Richard  and  Philip,  and  the  breaking  ofif  of  Richard's 
engagement  to  marry  the  French  king's  sister.  He 
also  expresses  himself  rather  mysteriously  about 
Richard's  engagement  with  Berengaria  of  Navarre, 
and  the  journey  undertaken  by  his  mother.  Queen 
Eleanor,  to  conduct  the  young  lady  to  him  in 
Sicily  : — 

"  (2ueen  Eleanor,  a  matchless  woman,  beautiful  and  chaste, 
powerful  and  modest,  meek  and  eloquent,  which  is  rarely 
wont  to  be  met  with  in  a  woman  who  was  advanced  in  years 
enough  to  have  had  two  husbands  and  two  sons  crowned 
kings,  still  indefatigable  for  every  undertaking,  whose  power 
was  the  admiration  of  her  age,  having  taken  with  her  the 


132  lEarlg  (Jl^^tonicUr^  of  IcnglanD. 

daughter  of  the  King  of  the  Navarrese,  a  maid  more  accom- 
plished than  beautiful,  followed  the  king,  her  son,  and 
having  overtaken  him  still  abiding  in  Sicily,  she  came  to 
Pisa,  a  city  full  of  every  good,  and  convenient  for  her  recep- 
tion, there  to  await  the  king's  pleasure,  together  with  the 
King  of  Navarre's  ambassadors  and  the  damsel.  Many 
knew  what  I  wish  that  none  of  us  had  known.  The  same 
queen,  in  the  time  of  her  former  husband,  Louis  VII.  of 
France,  went  to  Jerusalem.  Let  none  speak  more  thereof. 
I  also  know  well.    Be  silent." 

Some  of  the  further  adventures  which  befel  the 
expedition  before  it  reached  the  Holy  Land  have 
an  additional  interest  nowadays  on  account  of  the 
island  which  was  the  scene  of  them. 

"The  fleet  of  Richard,  King  of  the  English,  put  out  to 
sea,  and  proceeded  in  this  order.  In  the  forefront  went  three 
ships  only,  in  one  of  which  was  the  Queen  of  Sicily  and  the 
young  damsel  of  Navarre,  probably  still  a  virgin  ;  in  the 
other  two,  a  certain  part  of  the  king's  treasure  and  arms  ;  in 
each  of  the  three  marines  and  provisions.  In  the  second 
line  there  were,  what  with  ships,  and  busses,  and  men-of-war, 
thirteen  ;  in  the  third,  fourteen  ;  in  the  fourth,  twenty  ;  in  the 
fifth,  thirty  ;  in  the  sixth,  forty  ;  in  the  seventh,  sixty ;  in  the 
last,  the  king  himself,  followed  with  his  galleys.  There  was 
between  the  ships,  and  between  their  lines,  a  certain  space 
left  by  the  sailors  at  such  interval,  that  from  one  hne  to 
another  the  sound  of  the  trumpet,  from  one  ship  to  another 
the  human  voice,  could  be  heard.  This  also  was  admirable^ 
that  the  king  was  no  less  cheerful  and  healthy,  strong  and 
mighty,  hght  and  gay,  at  sea,  than  he  was  wont  to  be  by 
land.  I  conclude,  therefore,  that  there  was  not  one  man 
more  powerful  than  he  in  the  world,  either  by  land  or  sea. 

"Now,  as  the  ships  were  proceeding  in  the  aforesaid 
manner  and  order,  some  being  before  others,  two  of  the  three 
first,  driven  by  the  violence  of  the  winds,  were  broken  on  the 


3^ic5art>  of  Mtbi}t^.  133 

rocks  near  the  port  of  Cyprus  ;  the  third,  which  was  English, 
more  speedy  than  they,  having  turned  back  into  the  deep, 
escaped  the  peril.  Almost  all  the  men  of  both  ships  got 
away  alive  to  land,  many  of  whom  the  hostile  Cypriotes  slew, 
some  they  took  captive,  some  taking  refuge  in  a  certain 
church,  were  besieged.  Whatever  also  in  the  ships  was  cast 
up  by  the  sea,  fell  a  prey  to  the  Cypriotes.  The  prince  also 
of  that  island  coming  up,  received  for  his  share  the  gold  and 
the  arms  ;  and  he  caused  the  shore  to  be  guarded  by  all  the 
armed  force  he  could  summon  together,  that  he  might  not 
permit  the  fleet  which  followed. to  approach,  lest  the  king 
should  take  again  what  had  been  thus  stolen  from  him. 
Above  the  port  was  a  strong  city,  and,  upon  a  natural  rock, 
a  high  fortified  castle.  The  whole  of  that  nation  was  war- 
like, and  accustomed  to  live  by  theft.  They  placed  beams 
and  planks  at  the  entrance  of  the  port,  across  the  passage, 
the  gates,  and  entrances  ;  and  the  whole  land,  with  one  mind, 
prepared  themselves  for  a  conflict  against  the  English.  God 
so  willed  that  the  cursed  people  should  receive  the  reward  of 
their  evil  deeds  by  the  hands  of  one  who  would  not  spare. 
The  third  English  ship,  in  which  were  the  women,  having 
cast  out  its  anchors,  rode  out  at  sea,  and  watched  all  things 
from  opposite,  to  report  the  misfortune  to  the  king,  lest 
haply,  being  ignorant  of  the  loss  and  disgrace,  he  should 
pass  the  place  unrevenged.  The  next  line  of  the  king's  ships 
came  up  after  the  other,  and  they  all  stopped  at  the  first. 
A  full  report  reached  the  king,  who,  sending  heralds  to  the 
lord  of  the  island,  and  obtaining  no  satisfaction,  commanded 
his  entire  army  to  arm,  from  the  first  even  to  the  last,  and 
to  get  out  of  the  great  ships  into  the  galleys  and  boats,  and 
follow  him  to  the  shore.  What  he  commanded  was  imme- 
diately performed  ;  they  came  in  arms  to  the  port.  The 
king  being  armed,  leaped  first  from  his  galley,  and  gave  the 
first  blow  in  the  war ;  but  before  he  was  able  to  strike  a 
second,  he  had  three  thousand  of  his  followers  with  him 
striking  away  by  his  side.  All  the  timber  that  had  been 
placed  as  a  barricade  in  the  port  was  cast  down  instantly, 


134  lEarlg  CTj^romcler^  of  lEnglant). 

and  the  brave  fellows  went  up  into  the  city  as  ferocious  as 
lionesses  are  wont  to  be  when  robbed  of  their  young.  The 
fight  was  carried  on  manfully  against  them,  numbers  fell 
wounded  on  both  sides,  and  the  swords  of  both  parties  were 
made  drunk  with  blood.  The  Cypriotes  are  vanquished,  the 
city  is  taken,  with  the  castle  besides  ;  whatever  the  victors 
choose  is  ransacked,  and  the  lord  of  the  island  is  himself 
taken  and  brought  to  the  king.  He  being  taken,  supplicates 
and  obtains  pardon  ;  he  offers  homage  to  the  king,  and  it  is 
received  ;  and  he  swears,  though  unasked,  that  henceforth 
he  will  hold  the  island  of  him  as  his  liege  lord,  and  will  open 
all  the  castles  of  the  land  to  him  ;  make  satisfactioil  for  the 
damage  already  done  ;  and  further,  bring  presents  of  his 
own.  On  being  dismissed  after  the  oath,  he  is  commanded 
to  fulfil  the  conditions  in  the  morning." 

Instead  of  doing  so,  however,  the  king  of  Cyprus 
was  found  next  day  to  have  escaped.  Richard  is 
joined  at  the  same  time  by  the  king  of  Jerusalem, 
who  came  to  the  island  to  salute  him  ;  and  the  two 
kings  combine  to  pursue  the  fugitive,  the  one  by 
land  and  the  other  by  water.  Their  forces  reas- 
sembled before  a  city  in  which  he  had  taken  refuge, 
and  a  sharp  battle  is  fought,  in  which  the  English 
would  have  been  beaten  if  they  had  been  under 
any  other  general  but  king  Richard.  They  gain, 
however,  a  dear-bought  victory,  and  pursue  the 
king  of  the  island  to  a  third  castle,  where  he  sur- 
renders on  condition  that  he  should  not  be  put  in 
irons.  Having  learnt,  apparently,  some  degree  of 
duplicity  from  his  adversary,  King  Richard  con- 
sents, and  causes  shackles  of  silver  to  be  made  for 
him.  He  then  traverses  the  whole  island,  takes 
all  its  castles,  and  appoints  constables  of  his  own 


Kitj^arl)  of  IBtbiii^,  135 

to  keep  them  ;  assigning  also  sheriffs  and  justices 
for  the  whole  island,  just  as  in  England.  He  after- 
wards sails  to  the  siege  of  Acre,  capturing  on  his 
way  a  very  large  merchant  ship  destined  by  Saladin 
for  the  relief  of  the  besieged.  His  arrival  at  Acre, 
we  are  told,  "  was  welcomed  by  the  besiegers  with 
as  great  joy  as  if  it  had  been  Christ  that  had  come 
again  on  earth  to  restore  the  kingdom  of  Israel." 
The  French  king  had  got  there  before  him,  but  his 
lustre  paled  on  Richard's  arrival  like  that  of  the 
moon  before  the  rising  sun. 

Richard  had  brought  with  him  from  Sicily  the 
materials  of  a  wooden  fortress  which  he  had  set  up 
at  Messina  to  overawe  the  Griffones.  It  was  now 
set  up  at  Acre,  and  from  its  height  men  overlooked 
the  city.  Archers  were  set  upon  it,  who  shot  their 
missiles  at  the  Turks  and  Thracians,  while  engines 
cast  stones,  and  battering  rams  assailed  the  walls, 
of  which  sappers  also  undermined  the  foundations. 
The  soldiers,  at  the  same  time  protected  by  their 
shields,  planted  scaling  ladders  and  sought  an 
entrance  over  the  ramparts.  "The  king  himself 
ran  up  and  down  through  the  ranks,  directing  some, 
reproving  some,  and  urging  others,  and  thus  was 
he  everywhere  present  with  every  one  of  them,  so 
that  whatever  they  all  did,  ought  properly  to  be 
ascribed  to  him."  Affairs  grew  desparate  with  the 
besieged,  and  many  of  them,  prior  to  surrender, 
"  made  a  purse  of  their  stomachs,"  as  our  author 
expresses  it,  swallowing  a  number  of  gold  coins 
that  the  victors  might  not  profit  by  their  wealth. 


136  ^arlg  CTj^romcIcr^  of  lEnglanU. 

So  all  of  them  came  disarmed  before  the  kings  of 
England  and  France  outside  the  city  and  were 
given  into  custody. 

The  causes  which  led  the  French  king  soon  after 
this  to  desert  King  Richard  and  abandon  the  ex- 
pedition altogether,  are  described  as  follows.  After 
mentioning  (certainly  without  a  sign  of  disapproval) 
that  Richard  beheaded  all  his  captives  except  one 
of  the  most  distinguished,  the  writer  says  : — 

'•  A  certain  marquess  of  Montferrat,  a  smooth-faced  man, 
had  held  Tyre,  which  he  had  seized  on  many  years  ago,  to 
whom  the  king  of  the  French  sold  all  his  captives  ahve,  and 
promised  the  crown  of  the  region  which  was  not  yet  con- 
quered ;  but  the  king  of  the  English  withstood  him  to  the 
face.  '  It  is  not  proper,'  said  he,  'for  a  man  of  your  reputa- 
tion to  bestow  or  promise  what  is  not  yet  obtained ;  but 
further,  if  the  cause  of  your  journey  be  Christ,  when  at 
length  you  have  taken  Jerusalem,  the  chief  of  the  cities  of 
this  region,  from  the  hand  of  the  enemy,  you  will,  without 
delay  or  condition,  restore  the  kingdom  to  Guy,  the  legiti- 
mate king  of  Jerusalem.  For  the  rest,  if  you  recollect,  you 
did  not  obtain  Acre  without  a  participator,  so  that  neither 
should  that  which  is  the  property  of  two  be  dealt  out  by  one 
hand.'  Oh,  oh  !  how  fine  for  a  goodly  throat !  The  mar- 
quess, bereft  of  his  blissful  hope,  returns  to  Tyre,  and  the 
king  of  the  French,  who  had  greatly  desired  to  strengthen 
himself  against  his  envied  ally  by  means  of  the  marquess, 
now  fell  off  daily ;  and  this  added  to  the  continual  irritation 
of  his  mind — that  even  the  scullion  of  the  king  of  the  English 
fared  more  sumptuously  than  the  cupbearer  of  the  French. 
After  some  time,  letters  were  forged  in  the  tent  of  the  king  of 
the  French,  by  which,  as  if  they  had  been  sent  by  his  nobles 
out  of  France,  the  king  was  recalled  to  France.  A  cause  is 
invented  which  would  necessarily  be  respected  more  than  it 


iitcfjarlJ  of  iBcbijcs}.  137 


deserved  ;  his  only  son,  after  a  long  illness,  was  now  des- 
paired of  by  the  physicians  ;  France  exposed  to  be  desolated, 
if  after  the  son's  death,  the  father  (as  it  might  fall  out)  should 
perish  in  a  foreign  land.  So,  frequent  council  being  held 
between  the  kings  hereupon,  as  they  were  both  great  and 
could  not  dwell  together,  Abraham  remaining,  Lot  departed 
from  him.  Moreover,  the  king  of  the  French,  by  his  chief 
nobles,  gave  security  by  oath  for  himself  and  his  vassals  to 
the  king  of  the  English,  that  he  would  observe  every  pledge 
until  he  should  return  to  his  kingdom  in  peace." 

But,  after  all,  the  story  of  the  Crusade  occupies 
but  a  secondary  place  in  this  author's  narrative. 
Here  and  there  it  comes  in  by  fragments,  just  as 
the  news  from  the  East  may  be  supposed  to  have 
reached  the  monasteries  of  England,  diverting 
attention  from  time  to  time  amid  the  troubles  at 
home.  To  the  modern  reader  the  domestic  history 
of  England  under  Richard  I.  is  of  very  inferior 
interest ;  the  imagination  is  engrossed  by  his  ad- 
ventures in  the  Holy  Land,  and  what  befel  him  on 
his  way  thither  and  back  to  his  own  kingdom. 
But  in  the  brief  chronicle  of  Richard  of  Devizes 
affairs  wear  their  natural  aspect,  and  the  progress 
of  the  Crusade,  though  watched  with  the  deepest 
interest,  is  thrown  into  the  background.  We  follow 
the  acts  of  King  Richard,  not  as  in  a  romance,  but 
as  in  a  journal,  with  the  pride  of  contemporaries 
and  fellow-countrymen  in  achievements  which  have 
made  our  king  and  nation  distinguished  above  all 
others.  Yet  with  the  greatest  possible  sympathy 
on  our  part  we  cannot  help  feeling  the  more  imme- 
diate pressure  of  things  at  home,  where  Earl  John 


138  "lEarlg  €]bronlfUr^  of  lEnglanD. 

is  gnashing  his  teeth  with  anger  at  the  chancellor, 
and  the  latter  with  all  his  astuteness  is  at  length 
unable  to  contend  with  him.  We  learn  how  the 
chancellor,  after  in  vain  calling  upon  the  city  of 
London  to  close  its  gates  against  the  earl,  throws 
himself  for  his  own  safety  into  the  Tower,  and  is 
watched  by  the  citizens  that  he  may  not  escape  ; 
also,  how  Earl  John  comes  to  London,  where  a 
great  meeting  is  held  and  elects  him  chief  justiciary 
of  the  kingdom,  ordering  that  all  castles  shall  be 
surrendered  to  such  as  he  shall  appoint ;  how  the 
chancellor,  placed  at  bay  and  without  hope  of 
assistance,  even  then  refuses  to  acknowledge  him  ; 
how  the  Tower  is  more  closely  besieged  in  conse- 
quence ;  and  how  the  chancellor  at  last  quits  the 
fortress  and  goes  to  meet  his  accusers,  promising 
to  submit  to  whatever  should  be  determined,  so 
that  he  is  compelled  to  surrender  his  castles,  but 
cannot  be  got  even  then  to  acknowledge  himself  in 
the  wrong,  or  yield  up  any  office  committed  to  him 
by  the  king,  till  he  has  appealed  by  message  to  the 
king  himself.  The  heroism  oC  the  chancellor,  one 
would  think,  might  have  excited  some  small  share 
of  the  admiration  so  freely  bestowed  upon  the 
heroism  of  King  Richard  ;  but  it  meets  with  little 
enough  from  Richard  of  Devizes. 

The  modern  reader  will,  however,  form  his  own 
comment  on  various  subjects  quite  apart  from  the 
reflections  in  which  our  author  is  pleased  to  indulge. 
For  Richard  of  Devizes  had  not  the  gift  of  pro- 
phecy, and  could  not  discern  the  germ  of  great 


i^icj^arD  of  35cbi|Cj5.  139 

future  good  in  what  seemed  to  him  a  mere  result 
of  anarchy.  Thus,  just  after  the  passage  above 
quoted  about  the  parting  of  the  French  and  Enghsh 
kings,  we  are  told  of  the  first  incorporation  of  the 
city  of  London,  which  is  recorded  as  follows  : — 

"On  that  day  the  commonalty  of  the  Londoners  was 
granted  and  instituted,  to  which  all  the  nobles  of  the  king- 
dom, and  even  the  very  bishops  of  that  province,  are  com- 
pelled to  swear.  Now  for  the  first  time  London,  its  con- 
spiracy being  pardoned,  found  by  experience  that  there  was 
no  king  in  the  kingdom,  as  neither  king  Richard  himself,  nor 
his  predecessor  and  fother  Henry,  would  have  suffered  this 
to  be  done  for  one  thousand  thousand  marks  of  silver.  How 
great  evils  forsooth  may  come  forth  of  this  conspiracy,  may 
be  estimated  by  a  definition,  such  as  this.  The  commonalty 
is  the  pride  of  the  mob,  the  dread  of  the  kingdom,  the  fer- 
ment of  the  priesthood  (tumor  plebis,  timor  regni,  iepor 
sacerdotii.^'') 

Another  subject  on  which  this  Winchester  monk 
felt  very  strongly  was  the  conduct  of  Hugh  de 
Nonant,  bishop  of  Coventry,  in  removing  monks 
from  his  cathedral  and  filling  their  places  with 
secular  canons.  He  and  his  monks  seem  to  have 
been  on  bad  terms  for  some  time,  and  in  October, 
1 190,  when  two  new  bishops  were  consecrated  at 
Westminster  by  Archbishop  Baldwin,  Hugh  de 
Nonant  laid  his  complaint  before  the  primate  and 
the  other  assembled  bishops,  that  they  had  laid 
violent  hands  on  him  and  drawn  his  blood  before 
the  altar.  He  had  already,  however,  before  com- 
plaining, expelled  the  greater  part  of  them,  and 
his  object  in  laying  the   case   before   his   brother 


140  lEarlg  ©j^ronltUr^  of  1£nglant). 

prelates  was  to  obtain  their  sanction  to  what  he 
had  done.  The  bishops  shared  his  feehngs  and 
approved  the  act.  Monks  were  laymen  and  apt  to 
be  a  little  insubordinate  now  and  then  ;  so  the 
bishops,  although  it  is  said  they  only  yielded  to 
Hugh  de  Nonant's  importunity,  could  not  but  sym- 
pathise with  what  was  done.  Bishop  Hugh  accord- 
ingly not  only  expelled  the  monks  but  broke  down 
all  the  workshops  of  the  monastery,  that  secular 
industry  might  no  longer  be  carried  on  within  its 
walls.  Nay,  he  removed  the  walls  themselves,  and 
made  use  of  the  materials  in  finishing  his  own 
cathedral,  and  employed  freely  the  property  of  the 
monastery  in  giving  wages  to  masons  and  plas- 
terers. Special  delicacies  from  two  of  the  chief 
manors  of  the  monks  were  always  placed  on  his 
table  before  him.  With  the  rest  of  their  revenues 
he  endowed  prebends,  some  of  which  he  placed  for 
ever  at  the  disposal  of  the  see  of  Rome  for  the 
benefit  of  the  cardinals,  appointing  certain  cardinals 
prebendaries  from  the  very  first.  A  fine  row  of 
houses  soon  grew  up  for  the  accommodation  of  the 
new  canons,  even  of  the  absent  ones,  in  case  that 
once  in  their  lives  they  were  ever  tempted  to  visit 
the  place.  Not  one  of  the  prebendaries  kept 
regular  residence. 

"^This,  forsooth,'  exclaims  our  monk  with  indignation, 
'  this  forsooth  is  true  religion  ;  this  should  the  Church  imitate 
and  emulate.'  It  will  be  permitted  the  secular  canon  to  be 
absent  from  his  church  as  long  as  he  may  please,  and  to 
consume  the  patrimony  of  Christ  where,  and  when,  and  in 


l^icj^arU  of  ^thiit^*  141 


whatsoever  luxuries  he  may  hst.  Let  them  only  provide  this, 
that  a  frequent  vociferation  be  heard  in  the  house  of  the 
Lord.  If  the  stranger  should  knock  at  the  door  of  such,  if 
the  poor  should  cry,  he  who  lives  before  the  door  would 
answer  (he  himself  being  a  sufficiently  needy  vicar)  *  Pass 
on,  and  seek  elsewhere  for  alms,  for  the  master  of  the  house 
is  not  at  home.'  This  is  the  glorious  religion  of  the  clergy, 
for  the  sake  of  which  the  bishop  of  Chester,  the  first  of  men 
that  durst  commit  so  great  iniquity,  expelled  his  monks  from 
Coventry.  For  the  sake  of  clerks  irregularly  regular  * — that 
is  to  say,  of  canons,  he  capriciously  turned  out  the  monks  ; 
monks  who,  not  with  others',  but  with  their  own  mouths 
praised  the  Lord,  who  dwelt  and  walked  in  the  house  of  the 
Lord  with  unanimity  all  the  days  of  their  lives,  who,  beyond 
their  food  and  raiment  knew  nothing  earthly,  whose  bread 
was  always  for  the  poor,  whose  door  was  at  all  times  open  to 
every  traveller  :  yet  they  did  not  thus  please  the  bishop,  who 
never  loved  either  monks  or  their  order.  A  man  of  bitter 
jocularity,  who  even  though  he  might  occasionally  spare  some 
one  of  them  never  ceased  to  worry  the  monks." 

We  must  now  take  leave  of  Richard  of  Devizes, 
a  writer  to  whom,  considering  the  brevity  of  his 
chronicle  we  have. perhaps  devoted  more  attention 
than  our  limits  justly  warranted.  But  as  an  expo- 
nent of  his  own  times  he  stands  alone.  A  more 
detailed  and  even  a  more  interesting  account  ol 
Richards  I.*s  expedition  to  the  Holy  Land  has  been 
written  by  an  actual  eye-witness  ;  but  it  is  devoted 
to  that  subject  alone.*  There  are  also  other  chro- 
nicles which  treat  of  the  internal  affairs  of  England, 
but  none  with  so  much  zest.     Whoever  really  seeks 

*  This  is  a  bitter  sarcasm.  Canons  of  the  order  of  St.  Austin 
were  called  regular  canons,  because  they  lived  under  his  rule.  But 
these  were  not  even  regular  canons  of  St.  Austin. 


142  lEadg  ©j&romckr^  of  iEnalanD. 

to  comprehend  the  spirit  of  Cceur  de  Lion's  age — 
the  spirit  of  the  monk,  of  the  crusader,  and  of  the 
poHtician,  should  read  the  chronicle  of  Richard  of 
Devizes  before  all  others.  His  style  is  a  little 
artificial,  owing  to  his  extreme  love  of  expressing 
himself  in  the  words  of  classical  authors.  His 
pages  are  full  of  quotations,  which  are  better  evi- 
dence of  his  extensive  reading  than  of  a  highly 
cultivated  taste.  But  it  must  be  admitted  that  his 
powers  of  description  were  of  no  mean  order,  and 
that  the  matter  of  his  little  treatise  is  of  rare  and 
exceptional  value. 

A  remarkable  picture  both  of  monastic  and  of 
social  life  in  England  at  the  end  of  the  twelfth 
century,  may  be  seen  in  the  chronicle  of  Joceline  of 
Brakeland,  monk  of  St.  Edmundsbury,*  giving  an 
account  of  the  energetic  government  of  Abbot 
Sampson  of  that  monastery.  Sampson's  prede- 
cessor Hugh  was  old  and  feeble,  and  had  got  the 
house  into  debt.  The  farms,  forests,  and  manor 
houses  of  the  abbey  were  all  going  to  decay,  and 
to  keep  up  the  dignity  of  the  house  he  borrowed 
money  at  interest.  The  debt  of  the  monastery 
had  been  regularly  increasing  for  eight  years  before 
the  abbot's  death  ;  and  what  was  worse,  every 
minor  official  had  a  seal  of  his  own  and  bound 
himself  in  like  manner,  both  to  Jews  and  Chris- 
tians.    For  these  practices  the  cellarer  had  been 

*  Edited  for  the  Camden  Society,  by  John  Gage  Rokewode,  in 
184.0  ;  and  aften\'ards  translated  by  T.  E.  Tomlins,  under  the  title 
of  Monastic  and  Social  Life  in  the  Twelfth  Century, 


3|occluu  of  iSialiclant).  143 

deposed,  and  the  old  abbot  was  induced  to  make 
master  Sampson  his  subsacrist,  who  kept  a  very 
strict  survey  over  the  workmen  employed  in  the 
monastery  and  took  care  "  that  no  breach,  chink, 
crack,  or  flaw  should  be  left  unremedied  so  far  as  he 
was  able."  After  the  abbot's  death  he  was  elected 
to  fill  his  place,  not  directly,  but  as  the  result  of 
various  conferences  between  a  deputation  of  monks 
and  the  king. 

Thoroughly  imbued  with  the  monastic  spirit  him- 
self, he  seems  to  have  been  in  every  way  well  fitted 
to  rule  in  such  a  community.  The  cause  of  his  first 
becoming  a  monk  he  had  related  himself  to  our 
informant  Joceline.  When  a  child  of  nine  he  had 
dreamed  the  devil  appeared  to  him  with  out- 
stretched arms  before  the  gates  of  a  monastery 
and  wanted  to  seize  him,  on  which  he  screamed 
out  "  St.  Edmund,  save  me ! "  and  awoke  calling 
upon  a  saint  whose  name  he  verily  believed  he  had 
never  heard  before.  His  mother,  hearing  the 
dream,  very  naturally  took  him  to  St.  Edmund's 
to  pray  ;  and  on  coming  near  the  monastery  he 
exclaimed  to  her,  "  See,  mother,  this  is  the  very 
place  I  saw  in  my  dream  !  "  There  could  not  be  a 
doubt  what  to  do  with  such  a  child. 

The  following  picture  of  the  man  is  not  a  little 
interesting  ; — 

"  The  abbot  Sampson  was  of  middle  stature,  nearly  bald, 
having  a  face  neither  round  nor  yet  long,  a  prominent  nose, 
thick  lips,  clear  and  very  piercing  eyes,  ears  of  the  nicest 
sense  of  hearing,  lofty  eyebrows,  and  often  shaved  ;  and  he 


144  Icarig  ©jbroniclcr^  of  lEnglantJ. 

soon  became  hoarse  from  a  short  exposure  to  cold.  On  the 
day  of  his  election  he  was  forty  and  seven  years  old,  and  had 
been  a  monk  seventeen  years  ;  having  a  few  grey  hairs  in  a 
reddish  beard,  with  a  few  grey  in  a  black  head  of  hair  which 
somewhat  curled  ;  but  within  fourteen  years  after  his  election, 
it  all  became  as  white  as  snow ;  a  man  remarkably  temperate, 
never  slothful,  well  able  and  willing  to  ride  or  walk  till  old 
age  gained  upon  him  and  moderated  such  inchnation  ;  who 
on  hearing  the  news  of  the  cross  being  captive,  and  the  loss 
of  Jerusalem,  began  to  use  under-garments  of  horse-hair  and 
a  horse-hair  shirt,  and  to  abstain  from  flesh  and  flesh  meats  ; 
nevertheless  he  desired  that  meats  should  be  placed  before 
him  while  at  table  for  the  increase  of  the  alms  dish.  Sweet 
milk,  honey  and  such  like  things  he  ate  with  greater  appetite 
than  other  food.  He  abhorred  liars,  drunkards,  and  talkative 
folks ;  for  virtue  ever  is  consistent  with  itself  and  rejects  contra- 
ries. He  also  much  condemned  persons  given  to  murmur  at 
their  meat  or  drink,  and  particularly  monks  who  were  dissatis- 
fied therewith,  himself  adhering  to  the  uniform  course  he  had 
practised  when  a  monk.  He  had  likewise  this  virtue  in  him- 
self that  he  never  changed  the  mess  you  set  before  him. 
Once  when  I,  then  a  novice,  happened  to  serve  in  the  refec- 
tory, it  came  into  my  head  to  ascertain  if  this  were  true,  and 
I  thought  I  would  place  before  him  a  mess  which  would  have 
displeased  any  other  but  him,  being  served  in  a  very  black 
and  broken  dish.  But  when  he  had  looked  at  it,  he  was  as 
one  that  saw  it  not.  Some  delay  taking  place,  I  felt  sorry 
that  I  had  so  done  ;  and  so,  snatching  away  the  dish  I 
changed  the  mess  and  the  dish  for  a  better,  and  brought  it  to 
him  ;  but  this  substitution  he  took  in  ill  part,  and  was  angry 
with  me  for  it.  An  eloquent  man  was  he  both  in  French  and 
Latin,  but  intent  more  on  the  substance  and  method  of  what 
was  to  be  said  than  on  the  style  of  words.  He  could  read 
English  manuscript  very  critically,  and  was  wont  to  preach  to 
the  people  in  English,  as  well  as  in  the  dialect  of  Norfolk, 
•where  he  was  born  and  bred  ;  wherefore  he  caused  a  pulpit  to 
be  set  up  in  the  church  for  the  ease  of  the  hearers,  and  for 


3io«lme  of  915ralkdant)*  145 

the  ornament  of  the  church.  The  abbot  also  seemed  to 
prefer  an  active  hfe  to  one  of  contemplation,  and  rather  com- 
mended good  officials  than  good  monks  ;  and  very  seldom 
approved  of  any  one  on  account  of  his  literary  acquirements, 
unless  he  also  possessed  sufficient  knowledge  of  secular 
matters  ;  and  whenever  he  chanced  to  hear  that  any  prelate 
had  resigned  his  pastoral  care  and  become  an  anchorite,  he 
did  not  praise  him  for  it.  He  never  applauded  men  of  too 
complying  a  disposition,  saying  *  He  who  endeavours  to 
please  all,  ought  to  please  none.' " 

He  himself  was  a  man  not  to  be  trifled  with. 
Extravagance  had  been  so  long  tolerated  in  the 
ofhce  of  the  cellarer,  that  even  with  a  change  of 
men  it  could  not  be  altogether  checked.  Abbot 
Sampson  associated  a  clerk  with  the  new  cellarer 
to  act  as  his  controller,  and  when  even  that  measure 
proved  ineffectual,  took  the  office  into  his  own 
hands.  It  was  a  very  important  office  indeed  ;  for 
the  cellarer  bought  provisions  for  the  convent,  sold 
their  corn  for  them,  and  levied  a  number  of  diffe- 
lent  dues  within  the  town. 

But  even  Abbot  Sampson  himself  failed  occa- 
sionally in  securing  the  rights  of  his  convent  as 
against  the  town.  It  was  urged  upon  him  that 
the  monastery  had  not  its  fair  share  in  the  increas- 
ing prosperity  of  the  country ;  that  while  the 
burgage  rents  of  other  towns  in  England  were 
enhanced,  St.  Edmund's  only  paid  the  abbot  forty 
pounds  as  it  had  done  of  yore.  The  burgesses  had 
been  quietly  allowed  to  ignore  the  rights  of  the 
lord  abbot.  Many  were  the  stalls  and  sheds  and 
shops  they  had  set  up  in  the  market-place  merely 

ENG.  L 


146  l£arlg  (^])xomtUt^  of  ^Englanti. 

by  agreement  with  the  town  bailiffs,  without  the 
assent  of  the  convent.  The  convent  are  of  opinion 
that  it  is  high  time  to  stop  this  sort  of  thing.  The 
burgesses  are  summoned  to  make  answer  and 
appeal  from  the  abbot's  court  to  the  king's  ;  they 
claim  that  the  town  is  free  by  charter  in  respect  of 
all  tenements  held  for  one  year  and  a  day  in  time 
of  peace  without  any  claim  being  made  upon  them ; 
also  they  allege  divers  old  customs  which  the 
monastery  do  not  admit.  Our  abbot,  however, 
thinks  it  will  not  do  to  disturb  old  possessors  right 
and  left.  He  accepts  as  a  compromise  the  payment 
of  one  hundred  shillings.  The  burgesses  agree, 
but  are  slack  in  paying  even  that,  and  offer  a  silken 
hood  of  the  same  value  every  year  on  condition 
of  being  quit  of  the  tithes  of  their  profits  de- 
manded by  the  sacrist  ;  and  this  being  refused,  we 
lose  both  our  silken  hood  and  our  hundred  shillings. 
A  practical  comment  upon  an  old  saw,  thinks 
Joceline,  for — 

"  He  that  will  not  when  he  may, 
When  he  will,  he  shall  have  nay." 

But  our  abbot  is  much  more  spirited  in  vindi- 
cating our  spiritual  rights  against  the  Archbishop 
of  Canterbury,  Hubert  Walter,  legate  of  the 
apostolic  see,  who,  coming  home  from  the  north, 
sends  two  clerks  to  express  his  intention  of  paying 
us  a  visit,  and  to  know  if  we  will  receive  him  as  a 
legate  is  received  elsewhere.  On  this  we  take 
counsel,  and  come  to  the  determination  that  we  are 


3iocclinc  of  I^KafeilanU.  147 

willing  to  receive  him  with  all  honour  and  reverence, 
and  we  send  messengers  of  our  own  along  with  his 
to  intimate  the  same.  But  "  our  intention  was  that 
in  the  same  way  as  we  had  done  to  the  Bishop  of 
Ely  and  other  legates,  so,  in  like  manner,  should 
we  show  him  all  possible  honour,  with  a  procession 
and  ringing  of  bells,  and  that  we  should  receive  him 
with  the  other  usual  solemnities,  until  he  should 
come  into  the  chapter  house,  perhaps  with  the  inten- 
tion of  making  his  visitation,  which,  if  he  were  to 
proceed  in  doing,  then  all  of  us  were  to  oppose  him 
might  and  main  to  his  face,  appealing  to  Rome 
and  standing  upon  our  charters."  Meanwhile,  how- 
ever, the  archbishop  is  gratified  by  our  reply  ;  but 
we,  for  our  part,  lose  no  time  in  sending  a  messenger 
to  the  Pope  to  know  if  we  be  accountable  to  any 
legate  except  one  sent  by  his  Holiness  d  latere. 
The  Pope  decides  in  our  favour,  and  sends  the 
archbishop  a  prohibition  against  exercising  juris- 
diction over  any  exempt  church  like  that  of  our 
monastery.  So  the  primate's  purpose  is  defeated, 
and  our  liberties  are  successfully  maintained. 

This  process  of  sending  to  Rome  was  not  always 
free  from  difficulty.  Abbot  Sampson  himself,  in 
former  days,  had  gone  on  such  a  mission  when  the 
times  were  full  of  danger  : — 

"  It  was  reported  to  the  abbot  that  the  church  of  the 
Woolpit  was  vacant,  Walter  of  Coutances  being  chosen  to 
the  bishopric  of  Lincoln.  He  presently  convened  the  prior 
and  great  part  of  the  convent,  and,  taking  up  his  story,  thus 
began  :  '  Ye  well  know  what  trouble  I  had  in  respect  of  the 


148  lEarlg  ©j^ronfclcrg  of  ^nglant). 

church  of  Woolpit ;  and,  in  order  that  it  should  be  obtained 
for  your  own  use,  I  journeyed  to  Rome  at  your  instance,  at 
the  time  of  the  schism  between  Pope  Alexander  and  Octa- 
vian  ;  and  I  passed  through  Italy  at  that  time,  when  all 
clerks  bearing  letters  of  our  lord,  the  Pope  Alexander,  were 
taken,  and  some  were  imprisoned,  and  some  hanged,  and 
some,  with  nose  and  lips  cut  off,  were  sent  back  to  the  Pope, 
to  his  shame  and  confusion.  I,  however,  pretended  to  be  a 
Scotchman  ;  and,  putting  on  the  garb  of  a  Scotchman,  I 
often  shook  my  staff  in  the  manner  they  use  that  weapon 
they  call  a  gaveloc*  at  those  who  mocked  me,  uttering 
threatening  language,  after  the  manner  of  the  Scotch.  To 
those  who  met  and  questioned  me  as  to  who  I  was,  I  an- 
swered nothing  but  "AVV/^,  ride  Rome,  turn  Catitcrburyr^ 
This  I  did  to  conceal  myself  and  my  errand,  and  that  I  should 
get  to  Rome  safer  under  the  guise  of  a  Scotchman.  Having 
obtained  letters  from  the  Pope,  even  as  I  wished,  on  my 
return  I  passed  by  a  certain  castle,  as  I  was  taking  my  way 
from  the  city,  and  behold  the  officers  thereof  came  about  me, 
laying  hold  upon  me  and  saying,  "  This  vagabond,  who  makes 
himself  out  to  be  a  Scotchman,  is  either  a  spy,  or  bears  letters 
from  the  false  Pope  Alexander."  And  while  they  examined 
my  ragged  clothes,  and  my  leggings,  and  my  breeches,  and 
even  the  old  shoes  which  I  carried  over  my  shoulders,  after 
the  fashion  of  the  Scotch,  I  thrust  my  hand  into  the  little 
wallet  which  I  carried,  wherein  was  contained  the  writing  of 
our  lord  the  Pope,  close  by  a  little  jug  I  had  for  drinking  ; 
and  the  Lord  God  and  St.  Edmund  so  permitting,  I  drew  out 
that  writing  together  with  the  jug,  so  that,  extending  my  arm 
aloft,  I  held  the  writ  underneath  the  jug.  They  could  see  the 
jug  plain  enough,  but  they  did  not  find  the  writ ;  and  so  I 
got  clear  out  of  their  hands,  in  the  name  of  the  Lord.  What- 

*  A  javelin  or  pike. 

t  Intended  probably  to  convey  to  his  questioners  the  idea,  "I 
ride  to  Rome,  and  then  return  to  Canterbury."  In  other  words, 
"I  am  a  mere  pilgrim,  first  going  to  Rome,  and  then  to  visit  St. 
Thomas  ^  Backet's  shrine." 


3JocHittc  of  ^^raltelantJ,  149 

ever  money  I  had  about  me  they  took  away  ;  therefore  it 
behoved  me  to  beg  from  door  to  door,  being  at  no  charge, 
until  I  arrived  in  England.'" 

Of  the  good  works  done  by  Abbot  Sampson 
during  his  tenure  of  office,  it  is  specially  to  be 
noted  that  he  bought  stone  houses  in  the  town  for 
schools,  endowed  the  hospital  of  Babwell  for  the 
support  of  the  poor  with  lands  which  he  had  pur- 
chased from  King  Richard,  and  caused  the  guest- 
house, larder,  and  various  other  portions  of  the 
monastery,  to  be  rebuilt,  or  roofed  over  with  tiles 
instead  of  thatch,  to  exclude  all  danger  of  fire. 
A  stone  almshouse,  too,  is  made  to  replace  a 
wooden  one.  The  abbot  is  discouraged  from  be- 
stowing costly  gifts  upon  the  church  by  the  fact 
that  the  silver  table  of  the  great  altar,  and  other 
precious  ornaments,  had  to  be  given  up  for  the 
redemption  of  King  Richard  ;  but  he  devotes  his 
principal  efforts  to  making  a  crest  to  the  shrine  of 
St.  Edmund  which  no  man  hereafter  shall  dare  to 
lay  hands  on  ;  for  though  everything  else  that  was 
valuable  all  over  England  was  taken  for  King 
Richard's  redemption,  that  shrine  was  left  inviolate. 
The  question  had,  indeed,  come  before  the  justices 
of  the  Exchequer,  whether  the  shrine  of  St.  Edmund 
should  not  be,  at  least  in  part,  stripped  of  its  orna- 
ments ;  but  the  abbot  answered  firmly,  "  Be  assured 
that  will  never  be  done  by  me,  nor  can  any  man 
compel  me  to  assent  to  it.  I  will,  however,  open 
the  doors  of  the  church  ;  let  any  man  enter  who 
will,  and  let  him  come  who  dares."     Then  each  of 


150  lEarlg  ©jbronictcr^  of  lEnglanU. 

the  justices  answered  with  an  oath,  "Not  I,  not  I. 
St.  Edmund  is  severe  even  upon  the  remote  and 
absent ;  much  more  will  he  rage  against  those 
present  who  attempt  to  carry  off  his  tunic."  So 
the  shrine  is  safe,  it  is  believed,  for  after  ages,  "  and 
now  plates  of  gold  and  silver  resound  between  the 
hammer  and  the  anvil." 

It  is  no  wonder  that  in  a  case  of  this  kind  our 
abbot  resists  the  demands  of  the  king's  justices. 
He  can  even  resist  the  king  himself.  King  Richard, 
at  the  solicitation  of  some  of  his  courtiers,  desires 
of  him  the  wardship  of  the  infant  daughter  of 
Adam  de  Cokefeld.  It  is  the  feudal  right  of  the 
abbot  himself,  and  he  has  already  given  it  away, 
lie  sends  a  messenger  to  the  king  to  excuse  him- 
self. Richard  storms  at  the  refusal,  and  swears  he 
would  be  revenged  on  the  proud  abbot,  were  it  not 
for  the  reverence  of  St.  Edmund,  whom  he  fears. 
On  the  return  of  the  messenger,  the  abbot  calmly 
answers  the  king's  threats :  "  Let  the  king  send,  if 
he  will,  and  seize  the  ward  ;  he  has  power  to  do 
his  own  will,  and  carry  off  the  whole  abbey.  I  will 
never  bend  to  give  my  assent  to  what  he  asks,  nor 
shall  it  ever  be  done  by  me  ;  for  it  is  to  be  feared 
that  such  things  will  be  drawn  into  precedents  to 
the  prejudice  of  my  successors.  For  this  matter 
I  will  never  give  money  to  the  king.  Let  the  Most 
High  see  to  it.  I  will  patiently  endure  whatever 
may  befall."  On  this  people  expected  that  the 
king  would  be  still  more  deeply  offended ;  but, 
instead  of  that,  he  wrote  to  the  abbot  in  a  friendly 


3ioctlmc  of  53ralfec(attU.  151 

tone,  and  desired  of  him  only  a  present  of  some  of 
his  dogs,  which  the  abbot  had  the  wisdom  to  send, 
with  some  horses,  and  further  gifts  superadded. 
The  result  was  that  the  king  publicly  commended 
the  abbot's  loyalty,  and  sent  him  a  valuable  ring 
which  he  had  received  from  Pope  Innocent  III., 
the  first  gift  sent  to  him  by  the  new  pontiff  after 
his  consecration. 

We  have  already  made  pretty  considerable 
extracts  from  a  very  brief  chronicle,  besides  giving 
the  substance  of  other  passages  of  great  interest ; 
but  almost  every  page  is  full  of  matter  that  invites 
quotation.  Besides  contentions  with  the  towns- 
men of  St.  Edmund's,  the  abbey  has  controversies 
with  the  city  of  London  and  with  other  powerful 
bodies  elsewhere  : — 

"  The  merchants  of  London  claimed  to  be  quit  of  toll  at 
the  fair  of  St.  Edmund  ;  nevertheless,  many  paid  it,  un- 
willingly, indeed,  and  under  compulsion ;  wherefore  a  great 
tumult  and  commotion  was  made  among  the  citizens  of 
London  in  their  hustings.  However,  they  came  in  a  body 
and  informed  the  abbot,  Sampson,  that  they  were  entitled  to 
be  quit  of  toll  throughout  all  England,  by  authority  of  the 
charter  which  they  had  from  King  Henry  the  Second. 
Whereto  the  abbot  answered,  that  were  it  necessary  he  was 
well  able  to  vouch  the  king  to  warranty  that  he  never  granted 
them  any  charter  to  the  prejudice  of  our  church,  nor  to  the 
prejudice  of  the  liberties  of  St.  Edmund,  to  whom  St.  Edward 
had  granted  and  confirmed  toll  and  theam  and  all  regalities 
before  the  conquest  of  England  ;  and  that  King  Henry  had 
done  no  more  than  give  to  the  Londoners  an  exemption  from 
toll  throughout  his  own  lordships,  and  in  places  where  he 
was  able  to  grant  it  ;  but  so  far  as  concerned  the  town  of 


152  lEarlg  ^jbromclct^  of  lEnghnD. 

St.  Edmund,  he  was  not  able  so  to  do,  for  it  was  not  his  to 

dispose  of.  The  Londoners  hearing  this,  ordered  by  common 
council  that  no  one  of  them  should  go  to  the  fair  of  St. 
Edmund  ;  and  for  two  years  they  kept  away,  whereby  our 
fair  sustained  great  loss,  and  the  offering  of  the  sacrist  was 
very  much  diminished  indeed.  At  last,  upon  the  mediation 
of  the  Bishop  of  London  and  many  others,  it  was  settled 
between  us  and  them,  that  they  should  come  to  the  fair,  and 
that  some  of  them  should  pay  toll,  but  that  it  should  be  forth- 
with returned  to  them,  that  by  such  a  colourable  act  the 
privilege  on  both  sides  should  be  preserved.  But  in  process 
of  time,  when  the  abbot  had  made  agreement  with  his 
knights,  and,  as  it  were,  slept  in  tranquility,  behold  again 
*  the  Philistines  be  upon  thee,  Sampson  ! '  Lo,  the  London- 
ers, with  one  voice,  were  threatening  that  they  would  lay 
level  with  the  earth  the  stone  houses  which  the  abbot  had 
built  that  very  year,  or  that  they  would  take  distress  by  a 
hundred-fold  from  the  men  of  St.  Edmund's,  unless  the  abbot 
forthwith  redressed  the  wrong  done  them  by  the  bailiffs  of 
the  town  of  St.  Edmund's  who  had  taken  fifteen  pence  from 
the  carts  of  the  citizens  of  London,  who,  in  their  way  from 
Yarmouth,  laden  with  herrings,  had  made  passage  through 
our  demesnes.  Furthermore,  the  citizens  of  London  said 
that  they  were  quit  of  toll  in  every  market,  and  on  every 
occasion,  and  in  every  place  throughout  all  England,  from 
the  time  when  Rome  was  first  founded,  and  that  London 
was  founded  at  the  very  same  time.  Also  that  they  ought  to 
have  such  an  exemption  throughout  all  England,  as  well  by 
reason  of  its  being  a  privileged  city,  which  was  of  old  time 
the  metropolis  and  head  of  the  kingdom,  as  by  reason  of  its 
antiquity.  But  the  abbot  sought  reasonable  imparlances 
thereupon  until  the  return  of  our  lord,  the  King  of  England,* 
that  he  might  consult  with  him  upon  this  ;  and  having  taken 
advice  of  the  lawyers,  he  replevied  to  the  claimants  those 
fifteen  pence,  without  prejudice  to  the  question  of  each  party's 
right." 

*  This  was  during  King  Richard's  absence  on  the  Crusade. 


Socclmc  of  i3raltclant).  153 

Another  dispute  of  a  similar  nature  led  to  pro- 
ceedings of  a  more  energetic  character.  It  was 
with  the  monks  of  Ely,  who  had  set  up  a  market 
at  Lakenheath,  having  obtained  a  charter  from  the 
king.  The  monks  of  St.  Edmund's  complain  of 
the  infringement  of  their  rights,  but  suggest  a  com- 
promise. The  monks  of  Ely  refuse  to  give  way  ; 
on  which  those  of  St.  Edmund's  procure  an  inquest 
to  be  had,  and  the  king  gives  them  a  charter  that 
no  market  be  henceforth  held  within  the  liberty 
of  St.  Edmund,  without  the  abbot's  assent.  The 
steward  of  the  hundred  accordingly  goes  to  inter- 
dict its  being  held,  but  meets  with  so  much  abuse 
and  violence  that  he  is  driven  to  make  good  his 
retreat.  The  abbot  being  then  at  London  consults 
with  lawyers  about  it,  and  sends  his  bailiffs  with  a 
company  of  men  of  St.  Edmund's  to  interrupt  the 
market  and  carry  off  any  buyers  and  sellers  they 
might  find  into  custody.  At  dead  of  night  six 
hundred  men,  well  armed,  took  the  road  from  St 
Edmund's  to  Lakenheath.  Their  approach  was  no 
sooner  observed  than  all  who  were  at  the  market 
ran  hither  and  thither,  so  that  not  one  of  them 
could  be  found.  The  prior  of  Ely  had  made 
preparations  with  his  bailiffs  to  defend  the  buyers 
and  sellers,  but  he  was  quite  discomfited  and  dared 
not  stir  out  of  his  inn ;  while  the  men  of  St. 
Edmund's  carried  off  shambles,  stalls,  and  cattle, 
the  latter  being  given  up  by  replevin  shortly  after. 
It  was  a  glorious  victory  ;  but  the  bishop,  it  seems, 
took  proceedings  afterwards  for  the  outrage,  and 
the  final  result  is  not  recorded. 


154  lEarlg  &f)xonitUv^  of  ?EnglanD. 

Thus,  even  monastic  life,  we  find,  was  not  with- 
out occasional  excitement ;  and  we  are  thankful 
to  the  pen  which  has  described  for  us  so  vividly 
what  these  excitements  were.  In  this  brief 
chronicle  of  Joccline  of  Brakeland  we  realise  many 
things  for  which  we  look  in  vain  to  more  elaborate 
compositions ;  and  for  a  social  picture  of  the  times 
it  is  altogether  unique.  The  monk,  we  can  very 
well  perceive,  was  by  no  means  so  cut  off  from  the 
world  as  to  have  lost  all  sympathy  with  what  his 
neighbours  were  doing  out  of  doors.  On  the  con- 
trary, it  is  he  more  than  others  who  is  concerned  in 
all  that  passes.  We  can  see  distinctly  how  the 
town  itself  is  the  mere  foster-child  of  the  monastery  ; 
how  its  markets,  its  fairs,  and  its  customs  all  belong 
to  the  abbot ;  how  the  monastery  provides  for  the 
education  of  the  district,  and  is  the  centre  not 
merely  of  the  religious,  but  even  of  the  social  life 
of  the  community.  And  surely  the  facts  which 
illustrate  all  this  are  quite  as  material  to  a  true 
conception  of  our  history  as  anything  related  by 
more  voluminous  writers  concerning  the  great 
events  of  the  times  in  which  they  wrote. 


CHAPTER  IV. 

IMAGINATIVE  AND  SOBER  HISTORY— WELSH  AND 
NORTHERN   WRITERS. 

Robert  of  Gloucester's  patronage  of  literature — Geoffrey  of  Mon- 
mouth's History  of  the  Kings  of  Britain — Its  popularity — Its 
apocryphal  character  and  extraordinary  legends — Their  acceptance 
as  history —  Clergymen  more  witty  than  monks — William  of  New- 
burgh  denounces  Geoffrey's  History — Giraldus  Cambrensis  also — 
Credulity  of  Giraldus — His  account  of  his  birthplace — His  family 
and  personal  history— His  election  to  St.  David's — Goes  to  Ireland 
with  Prince  John — His  Topographia  Hibernia — His  Vaticinal 
History  of  the  Conquest  of  Ireland — Description  of  Henry  II. 
— Itinerary  through  Wales — Character  of  the  North  of  England 
historians — Simeon  of  Durham — Ailred  of  Rievaulx — William  of 
Newburgh — Roger  of  Hoveden — Chronicle  of  Melrose — Walter 
Hemingburgh — The  Chronicle  of  Lanercost. 

At  this  stage  in  our  narrative  it  seems  right  to 
draw  attention  to  some  new  influences  which  began 
to  tell  upon  historical  literature  under  the  Norman 
kings,  and  prevailed  a  long  time  after. 

The  encouragement  which  learning  had  received 
at  the  court  of  Henry  I.  of  England,  the  king  so 
honourably  known  in  history  by  the  surname  of 
Beauclerc,  continued  to  yield  fruit  for  some  time 


156  lEarlg  €]^roniflcrg  of  lEnglanti. 

after  his  death.  His  natural  son  Robert,  Earl  of 
Gloucester,  became  the  patron  of  letters  in  his 
place ;  and  it  is  a  striking  fact  that  through  the 
stormy  period  that  ensued,  authors  looked  up  to 
him  as  their  friend  and  benefactor.  To  him 
William  of  Malmesbury  dedicated  both  his  earlier 
and  his  later  history,  and  it  was  in  compliance  with 
his  request  that  the  latter  work  was  undertaken. 
The  terms  in  which  William  of  Malmesbury  ac- 
knowledges the  earl's  patronage  are  honourable 
alike  to  the  writer  and  the  person  addressed.  "  You 
condescend,"  he  said,  *'  to  honour  with  your  notice 
those  literary  characters  who  are  kept  in  obscurity, 
either  by  the  malevolence  of  fame,  or  the  slender- 
ness  of  their  fortune.  And,  as  our  nature  inclines 
us  not  to  condemn  in  others  what  we  approve  in 
ourselves,  therefore  men  of  learning  find  in  you 
manners  congenial  to  their  own  ;  for,  without  the 
slightest  indication  of  moroseness,  you  regard  them 
with  kindness,  admit  them  with  complacency,  and 
dismiss  them  with  regret.  Indeed,  the  greatness  of 
your  fortune  has  made  no  difference  in  you,  except 
that  your  beneficence  can  now  almost  keep  pace 
with  your  inclination." 

This  was  a  truly  graceful  compliment ;  but  it 
was  exceeded  by  another  very  celebrated  author, 
who  likewise  dedicated  his  work  to  Earl  Robert. 
It  cannot  be  doubted,  however,  that  the  language 
used  by  Geoffrey  of  Monmouth  in  presenting  to  his 
patron  his  History  of  the  Kings  of  Britain^  was 
the  result  of  artful  and  studied  flattery.     Geoffrey 


©coffrcg  of  i^onmout]^,  157 

of  Monmouth  modestly  disclaims  the  honours  of 
original  authorship.  He  is  perhaps  the  first  of 
those  ingenious  romancers  who  profess  to  be  only 
translating  out  of  some  other  language  works  really 
composed  by  themselves.  His  friend  Walter, 
Archdeacon  of  Oxford,  he  says,  had  lent  him  a 
very  ancient  book  in  the  British  tongue,  containing 
the  whole  early  history  of  the  British  nation  ;  and 
at  the  archdeacon's  request,  though  he,  Geoffrey, 
had  not  made  a  study  of  fine  language,  he  had 
been  induced  to  translate  it  into  Latin.  He  had 
not  adorned  it  with  rhetorical  flourishes,  which 
might  only  have  served  to  distract  attention  from 
the  history.  But  perhaps  the  work  in  consequence 
was  rather  bald  and  unattractive.  "  To  you,  there- 
fore,'* he  says,  "  Robert,  Earl  of  Gloucester,  this 
work  humbly  sues  for  the  favour  of  being  so  cor- 
rected by  your  advice  that  it  may  not  be  thought 
to  be  the  poor  offspring  of  Geoffrey  of  Monmouth, 
but  when  polished  by  your  refined  wit  and  judg- 
ment, the  production  of  him  who  had  Henry,  the 
glorious  King  of  England,  for  his  father,  and  whom 
we  see  an  accomplished  scholar  and  philosopher,  as 
well  as  a  brave  soldier  and  expert  commander  ;  so 
that  Britain  with  joy  acknowledges  that  in  you  she 
possesses  another  Henry." 

The  History  which  Geoffrey  thus  succeeded 
in  palming  off  upon  the  world  under  such  dis- 
tinguished patronage,  is  in  truth  one  of  the  most 
extraordinary  works  of  art  that  the  Middle  Ages 
ever  succeeded  in  producing.      Of  mythical  tales 


158  Icnrlg  Cri)romcIcr0  of  lEnglanU, 

and  curious  legends  there  was  certainly  no  lack  in 
those  days  ;  but  the  fabrication  of  a  long  consecu- 
tive history,  to  fill  up  a  gap  or  form  a  prelude  to 
the  authentic  annals  of  a  nation,  was  something 
altogether  new.  Yet  the  story  was  so  wonderfully 
told,  the  invention  was  so  admirable,  and  the 
marvels  related  appealed  so  strongly  to  the  imagi- 
nation, that  the  world  for  ages  after  seems  to  have 
been  at  a  loss  what  to  make  of  it.  It  was  not  easy, 
even  at  the  first,  for  a  man  of  any  judgment  to  be 
a  thorough  believer  ;  but  it  required  some  boldness, 
even  after  centuries  had  passed  away,  to  dispute 
the  authority  of  fictions  which  owed  their  vitality  in 
the  first  instance  to  Geoffrey's  imaginative  pen. 

Very  soon  after  its  first  appearance  the  book 
was  translated  into  several  languages.  It  was 
versified  by  two  popular  poets  in  Norman  French, 
and  by  another  in  English.  The  stories  of  King 
Arthur  became  renowned  throughout  Christendom, 
and  were  augmented  by  continual  additions. 
Romances  without  end  were  woven  upon  the  same 
original  text.  "  Indeed,"  as  Sir  Thomas  Hardy 
remarks,  "  it  is  hardly  going  beyond  bounds  to  say 
that  there  is  scarcely  an  European  tale  of  chivalry 
down  to  the  sixteenth  century  that  is  not  derived, 
directly  or  indirectly,  from  Geoffrey  of  Monmouth. 
If  he  had  never  written,  our  literature  would  not,  in 
all  probability,  have  been  graced  by  the  exquisite 
dramas  of  Lear  and  Cymbeline  ;  and  much  of  the 
materials  which  he  has  woven  into  his  work  would 
no  doubt  have  perished." 


©coffrcg  of  i^onmout^,  159 

Geoffrey,  it  has  been  supposed,  was  a  native  of 
the  place  after  which  he  was  called.  That  he  was 
so,  however,  is  by  no  means  certain,  as  the  surname 
is  sufficiently  accounted  for  by  the  fact  that  he  was 
Archdeacon  of  Monmouth.  Very  little  is  known 
about  his  life,  except  that  he  held  this  dignity,  and 
that  he  was  promoted  in  1152  to  the  bishopric  of 
St.  Asaph,  which  he  could  only  have  held  for  a 
very  brief  period,  as  his  successor  was  elected  in 
1 1 54.  But  it  is  quite  clear  from  the  nature  of  his 
writings  that  he  was  a  Welshman  who  sought  to 
invest  the  early  history  of  his  nation  with  a  glory 
and  an  interest  far  surpassing  that  of  the  Anglo- 
Saxon  annals.  How  far  he  was  assisted  in  the 
process  by  existing  traditions  and  legends  it  is 
perhaps  in  vain  to  speculate  ;  but  it  is  not  very  easy 
to  regard  his  work  as  a  mere  collection,  or  even,  as 
what  it  professes  to  be,  a  mere  translation  from 
a  British  original. 

The  truth  evidently  is  that  as  the  Welsh  people 
came  more  in  contact  with  Norman  civilization,  the 
Celtic  imagination  was  fired  with  the  thought  of 
their  own  proud  position  among  the  inhabitants  of 
Britain.  They  alone  were  the  true  descendants  of 
the  race  that  had  possessed  the  island  before  Julius 
Caesar  landed.  They  had  their  own  princes,  their 
own  laws,  and  their  own  legends,  reaching  far  back 
beyond  the  era  of  Roman  history  itself.  The 
Welsh  to  this  day  are  great  genealogists,  who  love 
to  trace  their  pedigrees  back  to  a  very  remote 
period.   There  are  also  among  them  great  linguists, 


i6o  Icarlg  ©j^ronirto  of  Icnglant). 

who  pursue  the  etymology  of  words  with  a  zeal 
perhaps  even  greater  than  the  philologists  of  other 
nations.    It  was,  therefore,  a  problem  for  Welshmen 
more   than   for   any  other  people  to  discover  the 
origin  of  the  name  of  Britain,  and  to  tell  how  the 
island  was  first  peopled.     The  name  of  Britain  was 
derived  from  Brutus,  and  this  Brutus  was  a  great- 
grandson  of  yEneas,  the  hero  of  Virgil's  epic.     The 
adventures  of  Brutus,  as  recorded  by  Geoffrey,  are 
certainly   not   less   wonderful   than   those    of    his 
supposed  ancestor  in  the  ALneid.     Driven,  with  a 
little  band  of  followers,  out  of  Italy,  Greece,  and 
Mauritania  successively,  notwithstanding  prodigies 
of  valour  performed  in  each  of  these  countries,  he 
is  directed  by  an  oracle  to  seek  out  an  island  lying 
beyond  Gaul  in  the  Western  main,  where  he  should 
found  a  second  Troy,  and  where  his  descendants 
should  be  kings  of  the  whole  earth.    He  accordingly 
passes  through  Aquitaine,  ravaging  the  country,  and 
having  various  conflicts  with  native  kings.     At  last 
he  sails  into  Britain,  inhabited  then  by  none  but  a 
few  giants,  whom  he  and  his  companion,  Corineus, 
delighted  to  encounter ;  and  having  gained  com- 
plete possession  of  the  island,  he  founds  his  new 
Troy  on  the  banks  of  the  Thames.     It  was  by  a 
corruption  of  the  original  name,  we  are  informed, 
that  new  Troy  became  afterwards  Trinovantum ; 
and,  at  a  later  date  still,  after  it  had  been  fortified 
by  King  Lud,  the  brother  of  King  Cassivelaunus, 
who  reigned  in  Britain  when  Julius  Caesar  landed, 
it  obtained  from  him  the  name  of  Kaer-Lud,  or 


^licoffreg  of  i^onmout]^,  i6i 

Lud's-town,  which,  of  course,  the  reader  quite 
understands  to  have  been  the  original  form  of 
London. 

Such  is  the  beginning  of  this  marvellous  history, 
which  becomes  even  more  marvellous  as  it  pro- 
ceeds ;  and  how  it  could  ever  have  been  regarded 
as  serious,  especially  since  the  days  of  printing, 
when  books  have  become  more  generally  accessible, 
is  the  greatest  marvel  of  all.  The  circumstantial 
account  given  of  Brutus  and  all  the  long  line  of  his 
successors  might  indeed  well  deceive  uncritical 
readers  in  an  age  accustomed  to  believe  in  wonder- 
ful and  miraculous  legends  ;  but  apart  altogether 
from  the  extraordinary  character  of  the  things 
related,  there  was  always  much  to  shake  the  faith 
of  any  one  who  was  tolerably  well  read  in  the 
history  of  other  nations.  Not  only  does  the  native 
king  Cassivelaunus  twice  drive  back  Julius  Caesar 
from  the  shores  of  Britain  before  the  conquest  of 
the  island  is  effected,  but  more  than  one  British 
king  subdues  continental  countries,  and  among 
others,  the  great  King  Arthur  subdues  Denmark, 
Norway,  Aquitaine,  and  Gaul,  without  leaving  the 
faintest  traces  of  the  achievement  in  the  annals  or 
literature  of  any  other  nation.  Grotesque  attempts 
are  moreover  made  in  some  places  to  dovetail 
Roman  history  into  the  narrative,  or  to  modify  it 
in  such  a  way  as  to  augment  the  glory  of  the 
Britons.  Thus  the  story  of  Brennus,  the  Gaul, 
who  sacked  the  city  of  Rome,  is  turned  to  strange 
account.      Geoffrey   claims    this    achievement    for 

ENG.  M 


J 62  lEatlj)  ©Dronicler^  of  ISnglanU. 

Brennius,  a  British  king,  who  had  first  conquered 
Gaul,  and  he  otherwise  absurdly  perverts  the  story 
by  making  Porsena  one  of  the  Roman  consuls  who 
sued  to  him  for  peace. 

But  how  a  people,  possessed  of  such  an  ancient 
histoiy,  preserved,  as  it  would  seem,  by  their  own 
historians,  could  have  been  aware  of  contemporary 
events  in  distant  regions  in  some  of  the  remotest 
periods,  is  perhaps  the  most  wonderful  thing  of  all. 
For  we  are  assured  that  of  the  successors  of 
Brutus,  one  was  contemporary  with  the  prophet 
Samuel ;  that  Ebraucus  built  the  city  of  York,  or 
Kaer-Ebrauc,  "  about  the  time  that  David  reigned  in 
Judea  and  Sylvius  Latinus  in  Italy,  and  that  Gad, 
Nathan,  and  Asaph  prophesied  in  Israel ; "  that 
Bladud  built  the  city  of  Bath,  and  made  hot  baths 
in  it  about  the  time  when  Elijah  prayed  it  might 
not  rain.  This  attempt  to  synchronise  the  fabulous 
British  history  with  the  Biblical  and  other  records 
is,  we  need  not  say,  as  full  of  impossibilities  as  all 
the  rest.  The  whole  narrative  is,  indeed,  from 
beginning  to  end,  a  tissue  of  absurdities. 

That  speculative  etymologies  had  much  to  do 
with  its  fabrication  is  clearly  shown  not  only  by 
the  instances  of  Brutus  giving  his  name  to  Britain 
and  an  equally  mythical  King  Lud  to  London,  but 
by  a  good  number  of  other  cases.  King  Lud  was 
evidently  invented  to  account  for  Ludgate  rather 
than  for  London,  but  his  name  only  required  a  little 
manipulation  to  make  him  godfather  to  the  English 
metropolis  itself.    Ebraucus  in  the  same  way  founds 


CJeoffreg  of  iHonmout]^.  163 

Eboracum  or  York,  Belinus  erects  Billingsgate,  and 
Leicester,  which  we  are  told  was  originally  Leircestre, 
owed  its  name  and  origin  to  Leir,  the  King  Lear 
whose  story  was  dramatised  by  Shakespeare.  But 
these  and  other  things,  being  introduced  into  the 
narrative  v/ith  all  seriousness,  yet  as  mere  incidental 
facts,  have  such  a  very  plausible  appearance  that 
we  are  reminded  somewhat  of  the  description  of 
Laputa  and  the  grave  comments  therein  contained, 
as  to  the  origin  and  etymology  of  the  name  of  the 
island. 

Nothing,  indeed,  more  resembles  the  imaginative 
creations  of  Dean  Swift  in  the  consistency  with 
which  they  are  carried  out  through  the  details  of  a 
long  narrative  than  this  British  history  of  Geoffrey 
of  Monmouth.  The  Trojan  fable  is  not  merely  the 
starting  point  of  the  story.  It  reappears  at  in- 
tervals throughout  the  narrative,  and  is  boldly 
placed  in  the  light  of  a  well-known  fact  recognized 
in  former  days  by  the  whole  civilized  world.  Julius 
Caesar  pauses  upon  the  Gallic  coast  before  he 
ventures  on  the  invasion  of  Britain,  and  fixes  his 
eyes  upon  the  ocean.  The  island  is  visible  to  him 
in  the  distance  across  the  Channel.  "  In  truth,"  he 
says,  "we  Romans  and  Britons  have  the  same 
origin,  since  both  are  descended  from  the  Trojan 
race.  Our  first  father,  after  the  destruction  of 
Troy,  was  ^Eneas  ;  theirs  Brutus,  whose  father  was 
Sylvius,  the  son  of  Ascanius,  the  son  of  -^neas. 
But  I  am  deceived  if  they  are  not  much  degene- 
rated from  us,"  and  so  forth.     The  idea  of  Julius 


164  l£ar!g  (iTj^roniclcr^  of  lEnglantJ, 

Caesar  owning  a  common  ancestry  with  the  bar- 
barians whom  he  invaded,  and  speaking  of  them 
thus,  as  the  kinsmen  of  his  own  people,  has  in  it 
something  pecuHarly  ridiculous. 

Yet  such  was  the  popularity  of  Geoffrey's 
History^  so  widely  was  it  read,  so  universally 
talked  about,  and  so  credulously  accepted  by  the 
many,  that  from  this  time  the  Trojan  origin  of  the 
British  people  came  to  be  regarded  in  the  light  of 
an  established  fact.  Ethnology  had  not  yet  become 
a  science,  and  if  any  one  doubted  the  hypothesis, 
no  one,  at  least,  was  able  to  confute  it.  In  course 
of  time  Brutus  fairly  took  his  place  among  the 
historical  personages  of  antiquity.  Learned  monks 
in  their  cloisters  sat  down  to  write  the  annals  of 
their  country,  and  began,  as  a  matter  of  course, 
with  Brutus.  A  whole  series  of  chronicles  of  a 
later  age,  copied  one  from  another  with  variations, 
derive  from  this  the  common  epithet  of  TJie 
Br  lite  ;  and  long  after  the  revival  of  letters  and  the 
printing  press  had  given  the  world  better  means  of 
judging,  learned  antiquaries  were  still  found  to 
dispute  with  each  other  as  to  the  reality  of  this 
shadowy  hero. 

Thus  it  is  impossible  to  do  justice  to  the  his- 
torical literature  of  the  Middle  Ages  without  taking 
into  account  the  extraordinary  influence  which 
Geoffrey's  History  exercised  for  a  long  time  on 
the  historical  imagination.  In  a  more  legitimate 
sphere,  indeed,  its  influence  survives  even  at  the 
j)resent  day.     From  Geoffrey  of  Monmouth,  as  we 


©^offrcg  of  iWonmoutij.  165 

have  already  indicated,  Shakespeare  obtained  the 
story  of  King  Lear ;  and  from  the  same  source  are 
derived  the  prophecies  of  Merlin,  and  the  fabled 
history  of  King  Arthur,  which  have  supplied  poets 
and  romancers  with  endless  materials  for  their  art 
from  the  days  of  Sir  Thomas  Malory  to  those  of 
Spenser,  and  from  the  days  of  Spenser  to  those  of 
Tennyson. 

But  this  bold  invasion  of  the  province  of  history 
by  the  genius  of  romance,  was  a  thing  at  that  time 
so  unprecedented,  indeed  so  utterly  inconceivable 
to  most  readers,  that  there  seemed  no  alternative 
between  accepting  it  for  what  it  professed  to  be, 
and  denouncing  it  as  an  impudent  fabrication.  The 
whole  narrative  stood  in  marked  and  violent  contrast 
to  the  sober  histories  penned  by  monastic  annalists. 
The  very  first  words  of  the  introduction  were  such 
as  would  at  once  put  a  modern  reader  on  his  guard. 
"  Whilst  occupied  with  many  and  various  studies," 
says  the  author,  "  I  happened  to  light  upon  the 
History  of  the  Kings  of  Britain,  and  wondered 
that  in  the  account  which  Gildas  and  Bede,  in  their 
elegant  histories,  had  given  of  them,  I  found  nothing 
said  of  those  kings  who  lived  here  before  the  Incarna- 
tion of  Christ,  nor  of  Arthur,  and  many  others  who 
succeeded  after  the  Incarnation ;  though  their  actions 
deserved  immortal  fame,  and  were  also  celebrated 
by  many  nations,  being,  as  it  weie,  inscribed  upon 
their  minds,  and  pleasantly  reported  from  memory." 
The  whole  thing  was  an  attempt  to  supply  from 
imagination  and  legend  a  record  of  the  pre-historic 


i66  Harlg  ©j^roniclcr^  of  IcnglanD. 

times  that  Bede  and  Gildas  had  left  untouched. 
Not  that  the  entire  narrative  is  to  be  regarded  as 
due  to  the  invention  of  a  single  man  ;  for  both 
Brutus  and  Arthur  had  become  popular  heroes  long 
before,  and  Welsh  bards  had  doubtless  vied  with 
each  other  in  producing  life-like  stories  of  the 
mythical  ancestors  of  recorded  British  kings,  whose 
descendants  were  yet  looked  upon  as  princes.  But 
Geoffrey  had  woven  together  with  consummate  art 
a  multitude  of  things,  some  part  of  which  he  had 
extracted  from  the  writings  of  an  old  author  called 
Nennius,  some  part  he  may  have  listened  to  with 
eagerness  from  the  lips  of  native  Welshmen,  and 
some  part  he  had  himself  hivented  in  a  similar 
spirit.  It  was  certainly  a  very  different  kind  of 
history,  and  gathered  from  quite  a  different  region, 
from  the  histories  that  had  been  penned  in  cloisters. 
For  Geoffrey,  it  must  be  remembered,  was  not  a 
monk  ;  he  was  an  archdeacon.  The  age  of  pure 
monastic  history  is  now  at  an  end,  when  the  secular 
clergy,  as  they  are  called,  clergymen  who  live 
habitually  in  the  world,  and  have  continual  inter- 
course with  all  classes  of  men,  take  up  the  pen  and 
write.  Endowed  with  the  same  love  of  letters  as 
their  monastic  brethren,  and  compelled  by  social 
intercourse  to  study  the  various  humours  of  men 
in  a  way  for  which  the  discipline  of  the  convent 
afforded  no  training  whatever,  the  foremost  eccle- 
siastics of  the  day  were  distinguished  by  their  wit 
and  sociable  feeling  quite  as  much  as  by  their 
learning.     And  these  qualities  shine  remarkably  in 


their  writings.  The  monks  recorded  the  actions  of 
men  ;  ecclesiastics  painted  their  heroes  to  the  very 
hfe.  The  dignity  of  archdeacon  seems  to  have  been 
the  most  favourable  position  in  the  Church  for  the 
cultivation  of  letters.  Henry  of  Huntingdon  was 
an  archdeacon;  so  was  Geoffrey  of  Monmouth. 
The  most  lively  writer  of  the  succeeding  age  was 
Giraldus  Cambrensis,  Archdeacon  of  Brecknock. 
His  witty  friend  Walter  Mapes,  author  of  many 
humorous  and  satirical  writings  both  in  prose  and 
verse,  and  also,  it  would  seem,  of  the  earliest 
Romances  of  tlie  Round  Table,  was  Archdeacon  of 
Oxford.*  They  were  all  admirable  observers  of 
men,  knew  thoroughly  what  human  nature  was, 
admired  it,  sympathized  with  it,  and  quizzed  it  in 
a  way  which  the  recluse  in  his  cell  must  have  con- 
sidered bordering  upon  levity.  Never  had  ink 
and  parchment  been  lowered  to  such  trivial  uses. 

Imagination  has  from  this  time  more  influence 
over  historical  writing  than  it  ever  had  before.  But 
it  was  not  to  be  expected  that  the  first  great  effort  of 
the  imaginative  school  would  be  allowed  in  that  age, 
to  pass  altogether  unrebuked.  A  northern  monk, 
named  William  of  Newburgh,  denounced  with  in- 
dignation the  mendacity  of  Geoffrey's  History, 
It  was  a  great  merit,  he  observed,  in  the  work  of 
Gildas,  notwithstanding  the  badness  of  his  style 
that  he  did  not  fear  to  speak  the  truth  of  his  own 


*  Mapes,  however,  was  probably  an  author  long  before  he  was 
archdeacon.  If  the  date  given  by  Sir  Thomas  Hardy  (Catalogue,  ii, 
488)  be  right,  he  was  only  made  an  archdeacon  in  1 196. 


i68  lEatlg  CTj^romckr^  of  lEnglant). 

people,  of  whom  he  had  little  good  to  record. 
According  to  Gildas,  they  were  neither  valiant  in 
war  nor  faithful  in  peace.  "  But  now,"  he  adds, 
"  a  certain  writer  has  appeared  in  our  times,  who, 
to  wipe  away  these  blots  on  the  character  of  the 
Britons,  composes  ridiculous  figments  about  them, 
and  with  impudent  vanity  extols  their  valour  above 
that  of  the  Macedonians  and  the  Romans.  This 
man  is  named  Geoffrey,  with  the  surname  of 
Arthur,  because  he  has  dressed  up  in  a  Latin  garb 
with  the  honest  name  of  history  stories  of  Arthur, 
derived  from  early  British  fables,  and  augmented 
by  his  own  ingenuity;  and  with  still  greater  daring, 
he  has  published  as  genuine  and  trustworthy 
prophecies  the  most  fallacious  divinations  of  a 
certain  Merlin,  to  which  also  he  has  certainly  added 
very  much  of  his  own  while  translating  them  into 
Latin." 

Notwithstanding  the  popularity  of  Geoffrey's 
History  there  cannot  be  a  doubt  that  these 
strictures  were  felt  to  be  just  by  readers  possessed 
of  any  discrimination.  On  the  other  hand,  they 
have  been  attributed  by  later  writers  to  a  feeling 
of  spite  against  the  Welsh  people.  Such  a  feeling, 
however,  could  not  have  actuatcJ  Giraldus  Cam- 
brensis,  himself  a  Welshman,  though  of  Norman 
descent,  and  in  his  own  way  possessed  of  quite  as 
lively  an  imagination  as  Geoffrey  himself  And 
not  only  does  Giraldus,  in  the  course  of  his  writings, 
distinctly  speak  of  Geoffrey's  History  as  fabulous, 
and  take  pains  to  set  aside  some  of  his  fancied 


CJiraltJu^  (^Rmlxcn^i^.  169 

etymologies,  but  he  evidently  agrees  with  William 
of  Nev/burgh  in  regarding  the  work  as  an  impudent 
imposture ;  in  proof  of  which  he  relates  a  singular 
story  of  a  Welshman  named  Melerius,  who  had  an 
extraordinary  familiarity  with  unclean  spirits.  The 
man  used  to  see  the  spirits  equipped  as  hunters, 
with  horns  hung  from  their  necks.  He  knew  when 
any  one  spoke  falsely,  for  he  saw  the  devil  leaping 
and  exulting  upon  the  liar's  tongue.  Although  he 
could  not  read,  he  could  set  his  finger  on  a  passage 
in  any  book  that  contained  a  falsehood,  and  in  walk- 
ing through  the  dormitory  of  a  religious  house,  he 
could  tell  the  bed  of  a  monk  who  was  not  truly 
devout.  "  If  the  evil  spirits  oppressed  him  too  much, 
the  Gospel  of  St.  John  was  placed  on  his  bosom, 
when,  like  birds,  they  immediately  vanished ;  but 
when  that  book  was  removed,  and  the  History  of 
the  Britons,  by  Geoffrey  Arthur,  was  substituted  in 
its  place,  they  instantly  reappeared  in  greater 
numbers,  and  remained  a  longer  time  than  usual 
on  his  body  and  on  the  book." 

There  is  nothing  like  confuting  fictions  by  facts  ; 
but,  somehow,  even  this  remarkable  manifestation 
of  its  falsehood  did  not  utterly  destroy  the  credit 
of  Geoffrey's  History.  Perhaps,  as  the  modern 
reader  will  conjecture,  the  authority  of  Giraldus 
could  not  be  expected  to  carry  much  more  weight 
than  that  of  the  author  whom  he  so  condemned. 
In  point  of  fact,  though  in  a  different  way,  Giraldus 
had  often  taxed  the  credulity  of  his  readers  every 
whit  as  much  as  Geoffrey  of  Monmouth  himself, 


170  lEarlfi  Qtlxonicleta  of  lEngianD. 

Giraldus,  in  fact,  was,  just  like  Geoffrey,  a  very 
imaginative  Welshman,  a  lover  of  wonders,  and  a 
retailer  of  extraordinary  stories.  For  some  of 
these  he  had  been  seriously  taken  to  task  by  a 
contemporary,  under  whose  criticisms  he  evidently 
felt  very  uncomfortable.  He  had  talked  of  a  wolf 
holding  conversations  with  a  priest,  and  giving 
evidence  that  he  was  a  man  transformed  into  an 
animal.  He  had  spoken  of  an  island  in  which  men 
never  died,  and  of  another  in  which  no  female 
creature  could  live.  He  had  described  a  great 
many  other  things  almost  equally  absurd.  When, 
pointing  to  instances  such  as  these,  his  adversaries 
attempted  to  cast  discredit  on  his  writings,  Giraldus 
quoted  the  example  of  Balaam's  ass  to  show  that 
they  were  not  beyond  the  limit  of  possibility ;  but, 
not  much  liking  to  rest  on  that  defence,  he  added 
that  he  did  not  vouch  for  all  that  he  had  reported 
as  if  it  was  undoubted  truth.  He  was  not  himself 
such  a  firm  believer  as  to  entertain  no  sort  of 
misgivings,  and  he  would  neither  maintain  the 
facts  where  they  had  not  come  within  his  know- 
ledge, nor  plainly  admit  that  they  were  fictitious. 

It  seems  a  little  curious  that  to  such  a  man  the 
fictions  in  Geoffrey's  History  should  have  been  so 
unpalatable.  But,  in  point  of  fact,  they  were  not 
so  in  all  things.  Giraldus  himself  believed  that 
Brutus  was  the  ancestor  of  the  Britons,  and  that. 
Loegria,  the  Welsh  name  of  England,  was  derived 
from  Locrinus,  the  eldest  son  of  Brutus.  He  believed 
even  in  King  Arthur.     In  all  that  tended  to  exalt 


the  antiquity  of  the  Welsh  nation  and  confer  dis- 
tinction upon  their  ancestry,  he  seems  to  have 
acquiesced  most  readily ;  but  some  of  the  deeds 
related  of  King  Arthur  were  just  a  little  too  much. 
It  would  be  hard  to  get  well-educated  men  to 
believe  things  so  utterly  at  variance  with  received 
history,  and  a  scholar  like  Giraldus  could  not  help 
feeling  sorely  that  they  tended  to  bring  his  nation 
into  disrepute. 

This  Giraldus,  however,  has  an  interest  for  us  on 
his  own  account  altogether  apart  from  what  he 
says  of  Geoffrey  of  Monmouth.  Having  left  us  an 
autobiography,  we  know  more  about  him  than  we 
do  about  most  mediaeval  historians  ;  and  as  his 
personal  history  is  very  much  interwoven  with 
everything  else  that  he  wrote,  a  brief  sketch  of 
his  life,  in  connection  with  his  writings,  will  best 
set  forth  what  we  have  to  say  of  him. 

He  was  born  in  the  year  1 147,  at  the  Castle  of 
Manorbeer,  in  Pembrokeshire,  pleasantly  situated 
on  the  coast,  about  five  miles  west  of  Tenby.  He 
himself  gives  a  delightful  picture  of  his  birthplace, 
which  those  who  have  seen  it  can  easily  believe 
was  not  overdrawn.  For  the  castle  of  Manorbeer 
still  stands,  a  very  perfect  ruin  ;  and,  though  the 
orchard  and  the  fishponds  are  gone,  in  which 
Giraldus  so  delighted,  tlie  situation  is  still  a  charm- 
ing one.  The  following  is  his  description  of  the 
place : — 

"The  castle  called  Maenor  Pyrr,  that  is  the 
mansion  of  Pyrrhus" — (Welsh   etymology   again, 


172  lEailg  (^\}xon\t\tx^  of  lEnglauti. 

striving  to  work  out  a  fabulous  history  !) — "  is  about 
three  miles  distant  from  the  castle  of  Pembroke. 
It  is  conspicuous  for  its  turrets  and  battlements, 
and  stands  on  the  top  of  a  hill,  extending  on  the 
western  side  towards  a  seaport.  On  the  north  side 
is  an  excellent  fishpond  close  to  its  walls,  remark- 
able for  its  extent  and  the  depth  of  its  waters  ;  and 
on  the  sime  side  a  very  beautiful  orchard,  shut  in 
here  by  the  fishpond  and  there  by  a  grove,  remark- 
able for  the  projection  of  its  rocks  and  the  height 
of  its  hazel  trees.  On  the  right  hand  of  the 
promontory,  between  the  castle  and  the  church, 
near  the  site  of  a  very  large  pond  and  a  mill,  a 
rivulet  of  never-failing  water  finds  its  way  into  a 
valley,  made  sandy  by  the  violence  of  the  winds. 
To  the  west,  and  at  some  distance  from  the  castle, 
the  Severn,  in  a  winding  angle,  enters  the  Irish 
Sea ;  and  the  southern  rocks,  if  they  bent  a  little 
further  towards  the  north,  would  form  an  admirable 
harbour.  From  this  point  you  may  see  almost  all 
the  ships  from  Britain,  driven  by  the  east  wind 
towards  Ireland,  bravely  daring  the  inconstancy  of 
the  winds  and  the  furious  blind  rage  of  the  sea. 
The  country  is  well  supplied  with  corn,  with  fish, 
and  with  wine  imported  ;  and,  better  than  all,  from 
its  nearness  to  Ireland,  it  enjoys  a  salubrious  air. 
Demetia,  indeed,  with  its  seven  cantreds,  is  the 
most  beautiful  as  well  as  the  most  powerful  district 
of  Wales  ;  Pembroke  is  the  finest  part  of  Demetia  ; 
and  the  place  I  have  just  described  is  the  most 
delif^htful  part  of  Pembroke.     It  is  evident,  there- 


©iraltJUiS  Q^amhxtmi^*  173 

fore,  that  Maenor  Pyrr  is  the  pleasantest  spot  in 
Wales  ;  and  the  author  may  be  pardoned  for  saying 
so  much  in  praise  of  his  native  soil  and  his  own 
birthplace." 

From  the  country  of  his  birth  Giraldus  derived 
the  surname  of  Cambrensis,  or  the  Welshman,  by 
which  he  is  popularly  known.  By  his  enemies,  on 
the  other  hand,  he  was  sometimes  called  Sylvester, 
or  the  Savage.  But  his  family  name  was  De  Barri, 
indicating  a  Norman  descent  by  the  preposition 
*•  de,"  though  Barri  was  only  the  name  of  an  island 
in  the  Bristol  Channel,  a  little  way  off  the  coast  of 
Wales.  By  the  mother's  side  he  was  descended 
from  the  celebrated  Nesta,  mistress  of  Henry  I., 
and  daughter  of  Rhys  ap  Tudor,  prince  of  South 
Wales.  Nesta,  by  her  marriage  with  Gerald  de 
Windsor,  Castellan  of  Pembroke,  became  the 
ancestor  of  the  long  line  of  the  Fitzgeralds,  and 
also  gave  birth  to  a  daughter  named  Angharad, 
who  married  William  de  Barri,  and  was  the  mother 
of  Giraldus.  He  was  the  youngest  son  of  that 
family,  named,  no  doubt,  after  his  grandfather  the 
Castellan  ;  and  being  allied  in  blood  with  the  first 
conquerors  of  Ireland,  a  country  which  he  himself 
visited,  he  wrote  a  very  admirable  history  of  its 
conquest,  besides  what  he  called  a  Topography  of 
the  island,  which,  however,  is  more  in  the  nature 
of  a  general  account  of  its  natural  history  and 
inhabitants,  invaluable  to  historians  of  later  times 
as  the  only  vivid  picture  of  Ireland  and  the  Irish 
that  the  Middle  Ages  have  left  behind  them. 


174  "Earlg  (^l)xomcUx$  of  lEnglanU. 

His  education  was  committed  to  his  uncle,  David 
Fitzgerald,  Bishop  of  St.  David's,  with  whom  he 
remained  till  he  reached  his  twentieth  year.  From 
a  child  he  seems  to  have  displayed  great  partiality 
for  the  Church,  insomuch  that  his  father  was  accus- 
tomed to  call  him  "the  little  bishop.'"  He  was 
evidently  precocious,  and  must  have  gained  from 
his  earliest  youth  an  acquaintance  with  Latin 
authors,  quite  unusual  in  that  age  ;  for  his  writings, 
interlarded  as  they  are  with  innumerable  quota- 
tions, show  a  very  intimate  and  extensive  familiarity 
with  the  ancient  classics.  In  his  twentieth  year  he 
was  sent  to  pursue  his  studies  at  Paris,  where  he 
attained  high  distinction.  He  returned  to  England 
in  1 172,  being  then  in  his  twenty-fifth  year,  soon 
after  the  murder  of  Thomas  a  Becket  Four  years 
later  an  event  occurred  which  may  be  called  the 
turning-point  in  his  life.  The  see  of  St.  David's 
fell  vacant  by  his  uncle's  death.  Giraldus  had 
been  meanwhile  made  Archdeacon  of  Brecknock, 
an  office  in  which  he  displayed  unusual  zeal  in 
supporting  the  bishop's  authority,  and  punishing 
irregularities.  It  was  remembered  by  the  Welsh 
that  St.  David's  had  once  been  an  archbishopric, 
and  they  were  anxious  to  restore  its  metropolitan 
dignity,  and  make  the  Church  in  Wales  once  more 
independent  of  the  see  of  Canterbury,  The 
chapter  fixed  their  eyes  upon  Giraldus,  as  a  man 
whose  energy  and  abilities  were  likely  to  advance 
this  cause,  and  elected  him  without  the  king's  con- 
sent.     Giraldus    himself    was    alarmed    at    their 


©iraltuji  Q^nmhvtn^i^.  175 

temerity,  but  the  object  was  as  dear  to  his  heart  as 
to  that  of  any  Churchman  of  the  principaHty  ; 
indeed,  rather  more  so ;  and  though  he  would  have 
renounced  the  election  as  too  hasty,  he  had  already 
drawn  upon  himself  and  the  chapter  the  fierce 
indignation  and  jealousy  of  an  ever- watchful  and 
politic  king. 

The  chapter  soon  were  humbled,  and  made  every 
effort  to  appease  the  king's  displeasure.  The 
election  was  cancelled,  and  Peter  de  Leia,  prior  of 
Wenlock,  was  chosen  in  place  of  Giraldus,  who  now 
returned  to  Paris,  and  gave  himself  up  to  the  study 
of  civil  and  canon  law.  The  martyrdom  of  Becket 
had  more  than  ever  brought  into  prominence  the 
old,  ever-recurring  question  of  the  jurisdiction  of 
Church  and  State,  and  Giraldus  was  full  of  it.  He 
lectured,  according  to  his  own  account,  to  overflow- 
ing audiences  ;  and  we  may  well  believe  him.  He 
was  a  man  full  of  fervour,  and  his  after  life  showed 
that  he  had  the  courage  of  his  opinions.  But  owing 
to  the  irregularity  with  which  he  received  his 
revenues,  he  returned  to  England  in  11 80.  He 
repaired  to  his  archdeaconry,  where  his  super- 
abundant zeal  brought  him  naturally  into  collision 
with  his  diocesan,  Peter  de  Leia,  a  prelate  as  lax  in 
enforcing  needful  discipline,  as  he  was  indifferent 
about  the  claims  of  St.  David's  to  the  primacy  of 
Wales.  Giraldus  had  no  toleration  for  a  bishop 
who  would  not  excommunicate  the  most  notorious 
offenders,  lest  he  should  find  the  tails  of  all  his 
cows   cut  off.      "  Let    him    sell    his    cows,"    said 


176  lEarlg  ©l)romflcr0  cf  Icnglant. 

Giraldus,  "  or  remove  them  to  some  safer  spot,  and 
do  that  justice  which  it  is  his  office  to  do."  The 
poor  bishop  was  soon  weary  of  remonstrances  and 
dropped  the  reins  of  government  altogether.  He 
absented  himself  from  his  diocese,  and  appointed 
Giraldus  administrator  of  the  see  in  his  place  ;  but 
ere  long,  some  differences  arising  between  him  and 
the  chapter,  he  ventured  in  his  absence  to  sus- 
pend certain  archdeacons  and  canons  ;  on  which 
Giraldus  immediately  threw  up  his  appointment, 
and,  contrary  to  the  principle  which  he  was  so 
anxious  to  uphold,  appealed  to  the  Archbishop  of 
Canterbury  against  his  diocesan.  He  was  success- 
ful, and  the  bishop's  sentence  was  reversed. 

In  1 184,  Giraldus  seems  to  have  made  a  favour- 
able impression  upon  the  king,  who  invited  him  to 
court,  and  made  him  one  of  his  own  chaplains. 
Henry  was  glad  to  employ  his  services  in  the 
pacification  of  Wales ;  but  for  politic  reasons  he 
left  them  poorly  rewarded,  and  Giraldus  bitterly 
complained  of  the  king's  ingratitude.  The  king, 
however,  appointed  him  preceptor  to  his  youngest 
son.  Prince  John,  with  whom,  in  1 185,  he  went  into 
Ireland  in  the  capacity  of  secretary.  The  young 
man  was  only  in  his  eighteenth  year,  and  had  not 
yet  fully  developed  that  base  and  selfish  character 
which  he  afterwards  left  behind  him  as  king ;  so 
that  Giraldus  had  some  hopes  of  him.  Still,  he 
tells  us  that  he  was  prone  to  vice,  rude  to  monitors, 
and  placed  no  restraint  whatever  upon  his  passions. 
The  best  that  could  be  hoped  was  that,  after  sowing 


Straltu^  ©amlbt-engfe.  177 

his  wild  oats,  he  would  improve  in  maturer  years  ; 
and  Giraldus  did  entertain  this  hope  most  fer- 
vently. 

This  visit  of  Giraldus  to  Ireland  occasioned  the 
composition  of  his  Topographia  Hibernice,  the 
earliest,  and  perhaps  the  most  attractive  of  all  his 
works.  So,  at  least,  the  modern  reader  will  pro- 
bably regard  it,  though  for  some  reason  it  met  with 
an  unfavourable  reception  from  many  of  his  con- 
temporaries. Readers  were  not  in  those  days 
students  of  nature,  and  the  learned  seem  to  have 
thought  it  a  waste  of  writing  materials  to  describe 
the  rivers,  lakes,  and  mountains,  birds,  beasts, 
and  fishes,  and  the  almost  equal  brutal  human 
inhabitants  of  a  barbarous  island,  their  habits  and 
modes  of  life.  Giraldus,  however,  who  was  never 
deficient  in  self-confidence,  felt  sure  that  his  book 
would  live.  "  He  had  devoted,"  he  said,  at  intervals 
of  leisure,  three  years  to  his  Topography ^  and  two 
years  more  to  his  Vaticiiial  History  of  the  Conquest 
of  the  Island, — "works  which,"  as  he  quietly 
observes,  "will  be  read  by  posterity,  although 
they  offend  men  of  the  present  generation  :  and 
though  carped  at  now,  will  be  profitable  in  future 
times." 

Giraldus,  in  truth,  had  a  fine  eye  for  nature,  and 
he  was  justified  in  believing  that  his  observations 
would  be  found  valuable  in  after  ages.  The 
singular  thing  is  that  so  acute  an  observer  should 
have  laid  himself  open,  as  we  have  seen,  to  the 
attacks  of  his  opponents   by  a  credulity  on  some 

ENG.  N 


178  lEatlg  ©Dronkler^  of  lEnglanO. 

points  altogether  extraordinary  ;  for  though  he  did 
not  think  it  necessary  to  attribute  the  absence  of 
noxious  reptiles  in  Ireland  to  the  achievements  of 
St.  Patrick,  there  was  apparently  nothing  of  the 
nature  of  a  prodigy  reported  to  him  by  others  to 
which  he  was  not  ready  to  attach  some  degree 
of  credit.  Out  of  three  "  distinctions,"  or  sections, 
into  which  the  work  is  divided,  the  second  is  entirely 
devoted  to  things  of  this  sort ;  the  common  sense 
of  the  author  is  confined  to  the  other  two.  But  the 
natural  history  of  Ireland,  the  m.iracles  of  Ireland, 
and  the  people  of  Ireland,  are  the  three  great  sub- 
jects of  the  book,  and  it  must  be  admitted  that  he 
does  full  justice  to  them  all. 

We  may,  however,  observe  that  superstitions, 
though  by  no  means  a  noble  subject  of  contempla- 
tion, are  in  themselves  a  matter  of  historical  study, 
which  we  cannot  afford  altogether  to  neglect.  It 
is  not  from  the  sober,  unimaginative  historian,  that 
we  gain  much  light  as  to  the  real  forces  that 
governed  the  spirits  of  men  in  the  wars  and  tumults 
and  rebellions,  of  which  history  is  full.  But  the 
credulous  writer  is  a  transparent  medium  through 
which  we  can  discern  things  otherwise  invisible. 
Special  incidents,  too,  which  led  to  no  material 
results  in  the  great  drama  of  events,  have  occasion- 
ally a  historical  significance  in  this  respect  by  no 
means  to  be  despised.  Take,  for  example,  the 
following  instance  from  the  Vaticinal  History  of 
Giraldus.  Henry  II.,  on  his  return  from  Ireland, 
landed  at  St.  David's  Bay. 


SiralDug  C!?amBrett^{<5.  179 

"  On  landing  he  proceeded  to  St.  David's  with  great  de- 
votion, in  the  guise  of  a  pilgrim,  on  foot,  and  staff  in  hand, 
and  was  met  by  the  canons  of  the  cathedral  in  solemn  pro- 
cession, who  received  him  with  due  honour  and  reverence  at 
the  White  Gate.  While  the  solemn  procession  was  orderly- 
passing  onward,  a  Welsh  woman  suddenly  threw  herself  at 
the  king's  feet,  and  made  some  complaint  against  the  bishop 
of  the  diocese,  which  was  explained  to  the  king  by  an  in- 
terpreter. Receiving,  however,  no  redress,  the  woman  be- 
came abusive,  and  raising  her  voice,  and  loudly  clapping  her 
hands,  she  repeatedly  shouted,  in  the  presence  of  all  the 
company,  *  Avenge  us  this  day,  Lechlawar,  avenge  our  race 
and  nation  on  this  man  ! '  And  being  stopped  and  thrust 
forth  by  the  people  of  the  country  who  understood  British 
[i.e.  Welsh),  she  still  continued  to  vociferate  the  same  words 
with  increased  violence,  alluding  to  a  certain  prophecy  of 
Merlin's,  which,  though  current  among  the  vulgar,  was  not 
authentic,  to  the  purport  that  a  king  of  England,  returning 
through  St.  David's  after  the  conquest  of  Ireland,  where  he 
had  been  wounded  by  a  man  with  a  bloody  hand,  should  die 
on  Lechlawar.  For  this  was  the  name  given  to  a  stone  which 
was  placed  across  the  stream,  dividing  the  cemetery  of 
St.  David's  from  the  north  side  of  the  church,  to  form  a 
bridge.  The  stone  was  of  beautiful  marble,  and  the  surface 
was  worn  smooth  by  the  feet  of  those  who  passed  over  it. 
Its  length  was  ten  feet,  its  breadth  six,  and  it  was  one  foot 
thick.  In  the  British  (Welsh)  language  the  word  Lechlawar 
means  '  the  speaking  stone ; '  for  there  is  an  ancient  tradi- 
tion that  on  some  occasion  when  a  corpse  was  carried  over 
it  the  stone  spoke  at  that  very  moment,  but  in  the  effort 
cracked  in  the  middle,  which  crack  is  still  to  be  seen.  This 
gave  rise  to  a  barbarous  superstition,  which  from  that  time 
to  the  present  day  forbids  any  dead  bodies  being  carried  to 
their  burial  over  the  bridge.  The  king  coming  to  the  stone 
paused  for  a  moment,  having,  perhaps,  heard  the  prophecy 
mentioned  ;  but  having  glanced  keenly  at  it,  he  summoned 
up  his  resolution,  and  without  further  delay,  walked  across. 


i8o  1Earl5  (!tf)tomtlm  of  lEnglanD. 

Then  turning  back  and  looking  at  the  stone,  he  said  with 
some  indignation,  *  Who  now  will  have  any  faith  in  that  liar, 
Merlin?'" 

Nothing,  perhaps,  requires  greater  intrepidity 
than  boldly  and  knowingly  to  confront  a  popular 
superstition.  It  will  be  observed  that  Giraldus 
himself,  in  this  case,  though  he  discredits  the 
prophecy,  saves  the  credit  of  the  supposed  prophet 
Merlin,  by  the  remark  that  this  prophecy  was  not 
authentic.  In  another  place  where  he  tells  the 
same  story,  he  adds,  that  one  of  the  bystanders,  in 
answer  to  the  king's  imputation  on  Merlin's  sooth- 
saying, cried  out, "  Thou  art  not  that  king  by  whom 
Ireland  is  to  be  conquered,  or  of  whom  Merlin  pro- 
phesied !  "     Superstition  certainly  dies  hard. 

The  Vaticinal  History  of  the  Conquest  of  Ire- 
land, from  which  the  above  extract  is  taken,  was 
written,  as  we  are  informed  by  the  author,  two 
years  after  the  completion  of  the  Topography. 
The  expedition  to  which  it  relates  was  one  in  which 
Giraldus  naturally  took  peculiar  interest ;  for  a 
large  number  of  its  captains  and  leaders  were 
kinsmen  of  his  own.  And  it  must  be  owned  that  a 
more  careful,  accurate,  and  graphic  history  does  not 
exist.  The  whole  story  of  the  conquest  is  related 
in  the  exact  order  of  the  events  themselves,  with  a 
vigour  and  clearness,  and,  generally  speaking,  with 
a  simplicity,  that  make  the  work  both  easy  and 
delightful  reading,  even  at  this  day.  The  only 
exceptions  to  simplicity  consist  in  classical  quota- 
tions, and  long   imaginary  speeches  of  Irish  and 


Norman  chieftains,  after  the  manner  of  Livy  and 
other  historians.  But  to  atone  for  these  defects, 
we  have  personal  portraits  of  Strongbow,  and  of 
almost  all  the  principal  leaders  on  either  side,  with 
estimates  of  their  characters  which  bring  the  men 
vividly  before  us.  In  no  other  mediaeval  historian, 
certainly,  do  we  find  writing  so  animated  or  so 
picturesque. 

Irish  chieftains  and  Norman  barons,  however, 
cannot  be  expected  to  interest  the  general  reader, 
without  some  detailed  account  of  their  actions.  As 
a  specimen,  therefore,  of  this  style  of  treatment  in 
Giraldus,  we  will  give  his  portrait  of  King  Henry  II. 
himself:— 

"Henry  II.,  king  of  England,  had  a  reddish  complexion, 
rather  dark,  and  a  large  round  head.  His  eyes  were  grey, 
bloodshot,  and  flashed  in  anger.  He  had  a  fiery  counte- 
nance, his  voice  was  tremulous,  and  his  neck  a  little  bent 
forward ;  but  his  chest  was  broad,  and  his  arms  were  muscular. 
His  body  was  fleshy,  and  he  had  an  enormous  paunch,  rather 
by  the  fault  of  nature  than  from  gross  feeding.  For  his  diet 
was  temperate,  and  indeed  in  all  things,  considering  he  was 
a  prince,  he  was  moderate  and  even  parsimonious.  In  order 
to  reduce  and  cure,  as  far  as  possible,  this  natural  tendency 
and  defect,  he  waged  a  continual  war,  so  to  speak,  with  his 
own  belly,  by  taking  immoderate  exercise.  For  in  time  of 
war,  in  which  he  was  almost  always  engaged,  he  took  little 
rest,  even  during  the  intervals  of  business  and  action.  Times 
of  peace  were  no  seasons  of  repose  and  indulgence  to  him, 
for  he  was  immoderately  fond  of  the  chase,  and  devoted  him- 
self to  it  with  excessive  ardour.  At  the  first  dawn  of  day  he 
would  mount  a  fleet  horse,  and  indefatigably  spend  the  day 
m  riding  through  the  woods,  penetrating  the  depths  of  forests, 
and  crossing  the  ridges  of  hills.     On  his  return  home  in  the 


i82  lEarlg  ©fjroniflerjJ  of  lEnglanD. 

evening  he  was  seldom  seen  to  sit  down,  either  before  he  took 
his  supper  or  after ;  for  notwithstanding  his  own  great 
fatigue,  he  would  weary  all  his  court  by  being  constantly  on 
his  legs.  But  it  is  one  of  the  most  useful  rules  in  life,  not  to 
have  too  much  of  any  one  thing,  and  even  medicine  is  not 
in  itself  perfect  and  always  to  be  used.  Even  so  it  bef  jl  the 
king  ;  for  he  had  frequent  swellings  in  his  legs  and  feet,  in- 
creased much  by  his  violent  exercise  on  horseback,  which 
added  to  his  other  complaints,  and  if  they  did  not  bring  on 
serious  disorders,  at  least  hastened  that  which  is  the  source 
of  all,  old  age.  In  stature  he  may  be  reckoned  among  men 
of  moderate  height,  which  was  not  the  case  with  either  of  his 
sons  ;  the  two  eldest  being  somewhat  above  the  middle 
height,  and  the  two  youngest  somewhat  below. 

"  When  his  mind  was  undisturbed,  and  he  was  not  in  an 
angry  mood,  he  spoke  with  great  eloquence,  and,  what  was 
remarkable  in  those  days,  he  was  well  learned.  He  was  also 
affable,  flexible,  and  facetious,  and,  however  he  smothered  his 
inward  feelings,  second  to  no  one  in  courtesy.  Withal,  he 
was  so  clement  a  prince,  that  when  he  had  subdued  his 
enemies,  he  was  overcome  himself  by  his  pity  for  them. 
Resolute  in  war  and  provident  in  peace,  he  so  much  feared 
the  doubtful  fortune  of  the  former,  that,  as  the  comic  poet 
writes,  he  tried  all  courses  before  he  resorted  to  arms.  Those 
whom  he  lost  in  battle  he  lamented  with  more  than  a  prince's 
sorrow,  having  a  more  humane  feeling  for  the  soldiers  who 
had  fallen  than  for  the  survivors  ;  and  bewailing  the  dead 
more  than  he  cared  for  the  living.  In  troublesome  times  no 
man  was  more  courteous,  and  when  all  things  were  safe  no 
man  more  harsh.  Severe  to  the  unruly,  but  clement  to  the 
humble  ;  hard  towards  his  own  household,  but  liberal  to 
strangers  ;  profuse  abroad,  but  sparing  at  home  ;  those  whom 
he  once  hated  he  would  scarcely  ever  love,  and  from  those 
he  loved  he  seldom  withdrew  his  regard.  He  was  inordi- 
nately fond  of  hawking  and  hunting,  whether  his  falcons 
stooped  on  their  prey,  or  his  sagacious  hounds,  quick  of 
scent  and  swift  of  foot,  pursued  the  chase.    Would  to  God 


C&iralDu^  CamBrni^fe.  183 

he  had  been  as  zealous  in  his  devotions  as  he  was  in  his 
sports. 

"  It  is  said  that  after  the  grievous  dissensions  between  him 
and  his  sons,  raised  by  their  mother,  he  had  no  respect  for 
the  obligations  of  the  most  solemn  treaties.  True  it  is  that 
from  a  certain  natural  inconstancy  he  often  broke  his  word, 
preferring  rather,  when  driven  to  straits,  to  forfeit  his  promise 
than  depart  from  his  purpose.  In  all  his  doings  he  was 
provident  and  circumspect,  and  on  this  account  he  was  some- 
times slack  in  the  administration  of  justice,  and,  to  his  people's 
great  cost,  his  decisions  in  all  proceedings  were  dilatory. 
Both  God  and  right  demand  that  justice  should  be  ad- 
ministered gratuitously  ;  yet  all  things  were  set  to  sale,  and 
brought  great  wealth  both  to  the  clergy  and  laity  ;  but  their 
end  was  like  Gehazi's  gains. 

"He  was  a  great  maker  of  peace,  and  kept  it  himself;  a 
liberal  almsgiver,  and  an  especial  benefactor  to  the  Holy 
Land.  He  loved  the  humble,  curbed  the  nobility,  and  trod 
down  the  proud  ;  filling  the  hungry  with  good  things,  and 
sending  the  rich  empty  away  ;  exalting  the  meek,  and  putting 
down  the  mighty  from  their  seats.  He  ventured  on  many 
detestable  usurpations  in  things  belonging  to  God,  and 
through  a  zeal  for  justice  (but  not  according  to  knowledge), 
he  joined  the  rights  of  the  Church  to  those  of  the  Crown,  and 
therein  confused  them,  in  order  to  centre  all  in  himself. 
Although  he  was  the  son  of  the  Church,  and  received  his 
crown  from  her  hands,  he  either  dissembled  or  forgot  the 
sacramental  unction.  He  could  scarcely  spare  an  hour  to 
hear  mass,  and  then  he  was  more  occupied  in  counsels  and 
conversation  about  affairs  of  state  than  in  his  devotions. 
The  revenues  of  the  churches  during  their  avoidance  he  drew 
into  his  own  treasury,  laying  hands  on  that  which  belonged 
to  Christ ;  and  he  was  always  in  fresh  troubles  and  engaged 
in  mighty  wars,  he  expended  all  the  money  he  could  get,  and 
lavished  upon  unrighteous  soldiers  what  was  due  to  the 
priests.  In.  his  great  prudence  he  devised  many  plans,  which, 
nowever,  did  not  all  turn  out  according  to  his  expectations  ; 


184  lEarlg  &}}xonic\txi  of  lEngTanD. 

but  no  great  mishap  occurred  which  did  not  originate  in  some 
trifling  circumstance. 

"  He  was  the  kindest  of  fathers  to  his  legitimate  children 
during  their  childhood  and  youth,  but  as  they  advanced  in 
years  looked  on  them  with  an  evil  eye,  treating  them  worse 
than  a  step-father ;  and  although  he  had  such  distinguished 
and  illustrious  sons,  whether  it  was  that  he  would  not  have 
them  prosper  too  fast,  or  whether  they  were  ill-deserving,  he 
could  never  bear  to  think  of  them  as  his  successors.  And  as 
human  prosperity  can  neither  be  permanent  nor  perfect,  such 
was  the  exquisite  malice  of  fortune  against  this  king,  that 
where  he  should  have  received  comfort  he  met  with  opposi- 
tion ;  where  security,  danger  ;  where  peace,  turmoil ;  where 
support,  ingratitude  ;  where  quiet  and  tranquillity,  disquiet 
and  disturbance.  Whether  it  happened  from  unhappy 
marriages,  or  for  the  punishment  of  the  father's  sins,  there 
was  never  any  good  agreement  either  of  the  father  with  his 
sons,  or  of  the  sons  with  their  parent,  or  between  themselves." 

In  no  other  mediaeval  author  do  we  meet  with 
such  minute  and  careful  painting  of  persons  and 
characters  as  this. 

Prince  John  returned  to  England  in  the  winter 
of  the  same  year  in  which  he  went  to  Ireland. 
The  ill  success  of  his  expedition  was  attributed 
by  Giraldus,  not  to  the  character  of  the  commander, 
but  to  the  cool  response  of  Henry  II.  to  the  invi- 
tation of  Heraclius,  Patriarch  of  Jerusalem,  to 
undertake  a  crusade  for  the  liberation  of  the  Holy 
City.  It  was  a  special  honour,  he  thought,  to  the 
King  of  England  to  be  solicited  before  any  other 
prince  to  promote  so  noble  an  enterprise ;  yet 
Henry  in  effect  allowed  the  enemies  of  Christ  to 
take   possession   of  Jerusalem   without   raising    a 


©iraltJu^  ®amBwn0i0.  185 

hand  against  them.  Giraldus,  however,  for  his 
part,  had  an  opportunity  of  showing  his  own  zeal 
a  few  years  later.  Meanwhile,  he  remained  in 
Ireland  collecting  materials  for  his  work  for  a  few 
months  after  Prince  John  had  left,  and  returned  to 
Wales  between  Easter  and  Whitsuntide,  1186, 
Next  year,  having  completed  his  Topography  of 
Ireland,  he  gave  a  public  reading  of  it  before  the 
university  of  Oxford,  on  three  successive  days, 
each  section  of  the  work  (called  in  the  scholastic 
language  of  the  times  a  "  distinction  ")  occupying 
a  day  to  read.  The  reading  was  crowned  each 
day  by  a  sumptuous  entertainment,  given  at  the 
author's  expense, — on  the  first  day,  to  the  poor 
people  of  the  town,  on  the  second  to  the  most 
eminent  doctors  and  students,  on  the  third,  to  the 
other  scholars,  knights,  and  burgesses.  Various 
are  the  ways  by  which  authors  in  different  ages 
have  climbed  to  the  temple  of  Fame  ;  and  this  was 
one  of  the  ways  seven  hundred  years  ago. 

In  1 188,  the  king  appeared  to  have  repented  his 
lukewarmness  as  to  the  fate  of  Jerusalem,  and  took 
the  cross  at  Gisors  in  Normandy.  Many  followed 
his  example,  and  Archbishop  Baldwin  was  sent  to 
preach  the  Crusade  in  Wales,  accompanied  by 
Ranulph  de  Glanville  the  Justiciary,  and  by  Giraldus 
— a  journey  as  remarkable  in  its  way,  and  within  its 
own  sphere  probably  far  more  fruitful  in  results 
than  any  expedition  to  the  Holy  Land  itself. 
Giraldus  wrote  an  itinerary  of  the  archbishop's 
progress.     His  presence  by  the  side  of  the  metro- 


i86  lEarlg  ©i/ronicUr^  of  ^Englanti. 

politan  was  doubtless  itself  a  great  means  of 
soothing  ancient  jealousies ;  and  though  some  of 
the  canons  of  St.  David's  appealed  to  Rhys  ap 
Griffith  to  prevent  the  archbishop  visiting  their 
cathedral,  the  Welsh  prince  felt  that  he  could  not 
interrupt  a  journey  undertaken  with  such  an  object. 
The  progress  began  at  New  Radnor,  where,  after 
a  sermon  by  the  archbishop,  explained  to  the 
Welsh  by  an  interpreter,  Giraldus  himself  first  took 
the  cross,  and  was  followed  in  so  doing  by  the 
Bishop  of  St.  David's  and  by  several  Welsh  princes 
and  notables.  The  journey  was  pursued  through 
Hay  and  Brecknock,  Abergavenny,  Usk  and 
Caerleon ;  then  by  the  southern  districts  along  the 
Bristol  Channel  to  Pembroke  and  St.  David's,  and 
from  thence  northwards  through  Cardigan,  to 
Carnarvon  and  Bangor.  The  Isle  of  Anglesea  was 
next  visited,  and  the  whole  of  North  Wales  was  after- 
wards traversed  to  Chester  and  Shrewsbury.  Such 
a  progress  was  a  thing  altogether  unprecedented, 
and  must  have  produced  a  deep  impression.  "  It 
requires  no  effort  of  imagination,"  says  Mr.  Brewer,* 
"  to  conjure  up  the  effects  which  an  archbishop  in 
the  twelfth  century,  clothed  in  the  majestic  insignia 
of  his  high  office,  attended  with  the  solemn  and 
striking  ceremonial  belonging  to  the  highest  dignity 
in  the  hierarchy,  fortified  with  papal  bulls  and  regal 
authority,  would  exercise  over  a  simple  and  half- 
civilized  people,  enthusiastic  by  nature,  and  re- 
markable   for    their  subservience    to    the   visible 

*  Gii'aldi  Cambrensis  Opera^  I.  pref.,  p.  xlix. 


©iraltju^  ©aml&rcttgi^.  1S7 

emblems  of  the  spiritual  power.  As  the  solemn 
procession  wended  its  way  among  the  retired 
valleys  and  romantic  mountains  of  South  Wales, 
now  with  banner  and  crucifix  emerging  from  some 
woody  glade  or  picturesque  ravine,  now  encamping 
on  the  bank  of  some  fabled  river,  or  skirting  the 
straggling  hamlet,  the  sermon  in  the  open  air  from 
the  patriarchal  lips  of  the  successor  of  St.  Thomas, 
the  hymn  floating  and  undulating  like  a  cloud  of 
incense,  the  occasion,  the  motive,  the  tender 
thought  of  Jerusalem  in  captivity,  of  the  daughter 
of  Zion  insulted  by  the  Saracen,  of  Christ's  living 
members  put  to  shame  ;  all  these  mingling  in  one 
stream  of  pious  enthusiasm,  ardent  faith,  glory, 
passion  and  adventure,  might  have  roused  an 
imagination  more  callous  and  sluggish  than  that 
of  the  Welsh." 

To  the  little  band  engaged  in  the  expedition 
there  were,  of  course,  hardships  and  difficulties  to 
be  encountered  in  so  rugged  a  country ;  but  the 
archbishop,  who  seems  to  have  been  a  man  of 
considerable  humour,  made  light  of  them.  Having 
on  one  occasion  worked  his  way  with  great  diffi- 
culty through  a  steep  valley  and  found  a  temporary 
resting-place,  he  sat  down  upon  an  oak  that  had 
been  uprooted  in  a  storm,  and  while  he  and  all  his 
followers  were  out  of  breath  with  their  exertions, 
asked  pleasantly  if  any  one  could  kindly  amuse 
the  company  by  whistling  a  tune  ?  In  answer  to 
the  general  laugh  he  then  bade  them  listen  to  the 
sweet  notes  that  some  particular  bird  was  pouring 


1 88  ISarIg  ©5ron(fIcrj5  of  Icnglant, 

forth  in  a  wood  close  by.  A  little  conversation 
then  arose  about  the  melody  of  birds  in  which 
some  one  remarked  that  the  nightingale  was  never 
heard  in  Wales.  "  The  nightingale,"  remarked  the 
archbishop,  "  followed  wise  counsel  and  never  came 
into  Wales.  We,  who  have  penetrated  and  gone 
through  it,  have  not  been  so  well  advised."  It  is 
worth  pages  of  more  solid  matter  to  learn  from 
these  light  touches  of  Giraldus  how  an  archbishop 
preaching  a  crusade  could  indulge  his  wit  in 
moments  of  relaxation.  It  was  the  innocent 
humour  of  a  very  upright  and  earnest  man  of 
whom  Giraldus  at  the  end  of  his  work  draws  a  very 
pleasing  and  admirable  portrait. 

The  Itinerary  of  Wales  is  discursive,  and  abounds 
in  matter  similar  in  character  to  that  of  the 
Topography  of  Ireland.  Occasionally,  indeed,  the 
author  repeats  what  he  has  said  in  the  previous 
work,  as  in  his  remarkable  and  very  accurate 
description  of  the  salmon's  mode  of  leaping.  In 
another  place,  also,  he  gives  a  very  interesting 
account  of  the  beaver,  an  animal  which  even  at 
that  date  had  become  rare  in  Wales,  though  it 
still  frequented  the  valley  of  the  Teivy.  Of 
prodigies  and  miracles,  too,  the  Itinerary  contains 
abundance,  and  some  of  such  a  transparent 
character  that  the  author's  credulity  becomes  the 
more  amazing.  Thus  we  are  gravely  told  about  a 
stone  in  Anglesea  resembling  a  human  thigh, 
which,  when  carried  away  from  its  place  to  what- 
ever distance,  always  returned  in  the  night-time  of 


©iralDu^  C^amiwn^i^,  189 

its  own  accord.  But  apparently  the  last  time  its 
peculiar  virtue  had  been  tried  was  in  the  reign  of 
Henry  I.,  when  Hugh,  Earl  of  Chester,  having 
gained  possession  of  the  island,  ordered  the  stone 
to  be  fastened  with  strong  iron  chains  to  a  larger 
stone  and  thrown  into  the  sea.  Next  morning,  of 
course,  so  ran  the  legend,  it  was  found  in  its 
original  position.  "  On  which  account,"  says 
Giraldus,  "the  earl  issued  a  public  edict  that  no 
one,  from  that  time,  should  presume  to  move  the 
stone  from  its  place."  A  singularly  unnecessary 
decree  if  the  legend  had  been  a  true  one ! 

The  Itinerary  contains  also  many  graphic  touches 
and  incidental  anecdotes,  some  of  which  have  been 
turned  to  good  account  by  historians  and  romancers, 
as  the  reader  will  doubtless  remember  in  the  fol- 
lowing instance : — 

"  I  have  judged  it  proper  to  insert  in  this  place  an  answer 
which  Richard,  king  of  the  Enghsh,  made  to  Fulke,  a  good 
and  holy  man,  by  whom  God  in  these  our  days  has  wrought 
many  signs  in  the  kingdom  of  France.  This  man  had  among 
other  things  said  to  the  king  :  '  You  have  three  daughters, 
namely,  Pride,  Luxury,  and  Avarice ;  and  as  long  as  they 
shall  remain  with  you,  you  can  never  expect  to  be  in  favour 
Avith  God.'  To  which  the  king,  after  a  short  pause,  replied  : 
'  I  have  already  given  away  those  daughters  in  marriage  : 
Pride  to  the  Templars,  Luxury  to  the  Black  Monks,  and 
Avarice  to  the  White.' " 

In  1 1 89,  to  further  the  Crusade,  Giraldus  went 
over  with  Henry  H.  into  France,  where  the  war 
broke  out  between  the  king  and  his  sons,  and 
Henry  himself  died  broken-hearted  the  same  year. 


190  1Snrl|)  ©j^roniclcr^  of  Icnglant). 

Richard  I.,  succeeding,  sent  Giraldus  back  to  Wales 
to  prevent  disturbances  arising  from  the  change. 
He  was  now  less  enthusiastic  for  the  Crusade,  and 
obtained  from  the  papal  legate  dispensations  both 
for  himself  and  for  the  Bishop  of  St.  David's  to 
stay  at  home.  He  was  now  rising  in  favour,  and 
within  a  few  years  was  offered  successively  the 
bishoprics  of  Bangor  and  Llandaff,  both  of  which 
he  declined.  No  Welsh  bishopric,  except  St. 
David's,  could  tempt  him  to  abandon  literary 
pursuits,  to  which  he  seems  now  to  have  been 
more  devoted  than  ever.  In  1 192,  he  was  on  the 
point  of  revisiting  Paris  when  the  war  broke  out 
between  Richard  Cceur  de  Lion  and  Philip 
Augustus,  and  compelled  him  to  remain  at  home. 
He  took  up  his  abode  at  Lincoln,  renowned  in 
those  days  for  its  school  of  theology,  and  remained 
there  till  the  death  of  his  old  rival,  Peter  de  Leia, 
left  the  bishopric  of  St.  David's  once  more  vacant. 
The  object  of  his  old  ambition  was  now  offered  him 
by  the  chapter  without  solicitation  on  his  part. 
But  some  adverse  influence  again  crossed  his  path. 
Hubert  Walter,  Archbishop  of  Canterbury,  refused 
to  accept  his  nomination,  and  resolved  that  no 
Welshman  should  be  appointed.  A  weary  con- 
troversy arose,  in  which  Giraldus  three  times 
visited  Rome  to  procure  from  Innocent  III.  a 
recognition  of  the  rights  of  the  see  of  St.  David's. 
But  in  the  end  his  election  was  set  aside,  as  well 
as  that  of  a  rival  who  had  been  uncanonically 
elected  in  his  place ;  and  the  bishopric  was  finally 


Moxi^txn  |^i0toriatt0»  191 

conferred  on  a  third  person,  not  more  favourable  to 
the  independence  of  the  see  than  Peter  de  Leia 
had  been.  Giraldus  was  disgusted,  but  appealed 
no  more.  He  lived  to  see  the  bishopric  again 
vacant,  and  again  offered  to  him  in  121 5  ;  but  he 
had  now  learned  wisdom  by  experience  and  refused 
positively  to  accept  it.  He  is  supposed  to  have 
died  in  1223. 

And  now,  taking  leave  of  our  Welsh  friends 
Geoffrey  and  Giraldus,  we  must  devote  a  brief 
space  to  another  school  of  historians.  No  contrast 
could  well  be  greater  than  that  between  the  writers 
we  have  just  been  describing  and  those  of  the  north 
of  England.  We  change  at  once  from  imagination 
to  realism,  from  amusing  bombast,  simple-minded 
credulity  and  picturesque  descriptions  to  the  most 
sober,  the  most  accurate,  and  often  the  most  prosaic 
of  mediaeval  chronicles.  In  drawing  attention  to 
their  writings  here,  we  do  not  purpose  to  treat  of 
them  at  a  length  at  all  proportionate  to  their  real 
importance.  But  it  would  be  impossible  to  pass 
over  in  silence  the  works  of  some  of  the  most 
weighty  of  our  early  historians  ;  and  a  very  few 
words  may  be  enough  to  make  them  known  to  the 
general  reader. 

It  was  in  the  north  of  England  that  monasticism 
from  the  first  had  taken  the  strongest  hold.  It  is 
in  the  north  that  we  first  meet  with  evidences  of 
native  genius  and  a  real  native  literature.  The 
foundation  of  Whitby  Abbey  by  St.  Hilda  un- 
sealed the  lips  of  the  poet  Caedmon,  and  taught 


192  lEarls  ©jbwmcler^  of  lEnglnnD, 

him  to  pour  out  the  story  of  Creation  in  Anglo- 
Saxon  verse.  The  two  monasteries  founded  near 
Durham  by  Benedict  Biscop,  were  the  school  of 
the  Venerable  Bede,  and  the  teaching  of  Bede 
himself  must  have  done  much  to  educate  a  new 
race  of  thinkers  and  writers.  At  York,  too,  under 
Archbishop  Albert,  in  the  middle  of  the  eighth 
century,  was  a  great  school  of  learning,  from  which 
emanated  the  illustrious  scholar,  Alcuin,  who  turned 
the  court  of  Charlemagne  into  a  university.  No- 
where in  those  early  times  was  education  more 
advanced,  nowhere  was  thought  so  active,  as  in  the 
north  of  England. 

From  the  days  of  Bede  a  long  succession  of 
chroniclers  endeavoured,  at  however  great  a  dis- 
tance, to  follow  in  his  footsteps,  and  to  continue 
the  annals  of  Northumbria  from  the  date  at  which 
he  left  off.  Soon  after  the  Conquest  the  inmates 
of  his  old  monastery  at  Jarrow  removed  to  Durham  ; 
and  Simeon  of  Durham,  one  of  those  who  migrated 
from  the  older  establishment,  carried  down  the 
history  to  the  year  1129.  The  work,  however,  that 
bears  his  name,  though  printed  as  one,  is  really 
two  separate  treatises,  and  it  is  evident  that  the 
earlier  fragment  was  the  production  of  earlier 
writers  in  the  north  of  England.  Mr.  Stubbs  is 
inclined  to  think  that  Alcuin  may  have  had  some 
hand  in  it.  The  work  of  Simeon  himself  has 
always  stood  in  very  high  repute,  and  various 
continuations  were  written  to  it  in  early  times. 
One  separate  line  of  continuators,  all  belonging  to 


iSort^ern  i^sitodanjJ.  193 

the  same  monastery,  brought  it  down  even  to  the 
days  of  the  Reformation.*  But  it  must  be  owned 
that  these  give  merely  the  dry  bones  of  the  history 
of  their  own  cathedral  and  of  the  bishops  who  ruled 
there.  Another  and  a  more  interesting  continua- 
tion was  written  in  the  monastery  of  Hexham  by 
John  of  Hexham,  as  he  is  called,  the  prior  of  that 
house,  who  brought  the  narrative  down  to  11 54. 
He,  however,  was  preceded,  as  a  historian,  by  Prior 
Richard  of  the  same  monastery,  who  wrote  a  very 
valuable  history  of  the  acts  of  King  Stephen, 
ending  with  an  account  of  the  Battle  of  the 
Standard.  Another  account  of  that  battle  was 
written  by  Ailred,  abbot  of  the  Cistercian  monas- 
tery of  Rievaulx,  in  Yorkshire,  who  was  led  to  un- 
dertake the  task  out  of  regard  for  the  founder  of  his 
monastery.  Sir  Walter  d'Espec.  This  is  not  by 
any  means  such  an  important  work  as  the  other, 
much  space  being  taken  up  by  speeches  of  the 
different  leaders  before  the  battle,  and  especially 
of  Sir  Walter  d'Espec,  who  was  one  of  those  who 
fought  there. 

A  little  later  we  have  the  Chronicle  of  Holy  rood, 
mainly  devoted  to  Scotch  affairs,  and  after  it  the 
History  of  William  of  Newburgh,  one  of  the  best 
original  authorities  for  the  reign  of  Henry  H.  This 
writer,  to  whom  we  have  already  made  reference  as 
the  severe  censor  of  the  fictions  of  Geoffrey  of 
Monmouth,  was  a  native  of  Bridlington,  born  in  the 

*  See  IlistoiicB  Dimdmenls   Scriptores   Tres,  published    by  t'ne 
Sartees  Society. 

ENG.  O 


194  ^arlg  ©j^roniclcr^  of  ?Enelan^. 

year  1 1 36,  and  was  known  to  his  contemporaries  as 
William  Petit  or  Parvus  ;  but  he  became  an  Austin 
canon  of  the  abbey  of  Newburgh,  in  Yorkshire,  in 
which  he  received  his  education.  His  history, 
though  commencing  with  the  Conquest,  may  really 
be  considered  contemporary,  as  the  events  prior  to 
the  reign  of  Stephen  are  compressed  into  less  than 
a  dozen  pages.  It  is  written  in  a  very  clear  and 
interesting  style,  after  the  model  of  Bede,  and 
generally  with  great  judgment  and  common  sense. 
Roger  of  Hoveden  (that  is,  of  Howden,  in  York- 
shire) set  himself  to  the  task  of  continuing  Bede's 
History  down  to  his  own  day,  with  the  aid  of 
several  former  compilations.  He  divided  his 
labours  into  two  parts — a  Pars  Prior  extending 
to  the  death  of  King  Stephen  ;  and  a  Pars 
Posterior^  from  the  accession  of  Henry  H.  to  the 
year  1201.  Oi  Pars  Prior,  almost  all  except  the 
last  seven  years  is  borrowed  from  Simeon  of 
Durham,  and  Henry  of  Huntingdon  ;  and  through- 
out a  considerable  part  of  Pars  Posterior  he 
cither  followed  or  worked  in  common  with  Benedict 
of  Peterborough,  who  has  left  us  a  chronicle  of  his 
own  ;  so  that  how  far  he  is  an  original  author  is 
uncertain.  But  he  is  mentioned  by  Benedict 
himself  as  one  of  King  Henry's  clerks,  whom  he 
sent  over  from  Poitou  in  1174,  to  persuade  some 
turbulent  chieftains  in  Galloway,  to  becom.e  subjects 
of  the  English  crown.  From  this  it  is  evident  that 
he  enjoyed  the  confidence  of  a  very  able  king  on 
political  matters ;  and  the  fact  is  quite  in  accord- 


Moxtt)(xn  l^igtodan^.  195 

ance  with  the  character  of  his  history,  which 
though  it  professes  to  be  merely  annals,  is  alto- 
gether unlike  the  bald  chronicles  left  by  many 
other  writers.  It  is,  in  fact,  a  very  able  political 
survey  of  the  reigns  of  Henry  11.  and  Richard  I., 
including  the  commencement  of  King  John's  reign, 
full  of  information,  not  only  about  the  affairs  of 
England,  but  about  those  of  France,  and  of 
Flanders,  of  Germany,  Italy,  and  almost  every 
other  European  country. 

The  Chronicle  of  Melrose  is  a  compilation  from 
the  northern  writers  who  succeeded  Bede,  to  the 
beginning  of  the  thirteenth  century,  but  is  continued 
as  an  original  narrative,  relating  to  the  affairs  of 
England  and  Scotland,  as  far  as  the  year  1270, 
when  the  only  manuscript  breaks  off  abruptly  in 
relating  the  attempt  of  a  Saracen  to  assassinate 
Prince  Edward  in  the  Holy  Land.  The  informa- 
tion contained  in  this  chronicle  gives  it  a  very  high 
value  to  historians;  but  it  is  neither  a  philosophical 
history  nor  in  itself  a  very  entertaining  record  of  the 
events  it  relates. 

Walter  Hemingburgh,  a  canon  of  the  priory  of 
Gisborough  in  Yorkshire,  wrote  also  a  history  com- 
mencing with  the  Conquest,  which  he  carried  down 
at  first  to  the  days  of  Edward  I.  He  then  added 
a  continuation  into  the  reign  of  Edward  II.  ;  "  but 
whether  the  latter  part  of  this  be  lost,"  says  his 
editor,  Mr.  Hamilton,  "or  was  never  written  has 
not  been  ascertained.  The  History  of  Edward  III, 
seems  to  have  been  composed  as   information  of 


196  lEnrlg  ©^ronUIet^  of  &glanD. 

passing  events  was  procured ;  and  the  abrupt 
termination  of  the  work  with  a  rubric  of  a  new 
section,  De  Bella  ifiter  Reges  Anglice  et  Fraiicice 
apud  Cressy  Commisso,  must  be  regarded  either  as 
indicating  that  the  health  of  the  writer  at  this 
period  Avas  such  as  to  forbid  further  literary  exer- 
tion, or  that  he  deceased  while  waiting  for  more 
perfect  information  of  the  famous  battle  he  intended 
to  record." 

As  an  original  authority  on  the  reigns  of  the 
three  Edwards,  Hemingburgh  has  always  been 
esteemed  of  the  highest  value.  He  is  a  writer  of 
clear  judgment,  and  cultivated  taste,  whose  accuracy 
of  statement  is  only  equalled  by  the  elegance  of  his 
style.  In  the  course  of  his  narrative  he  quotes  a 
number  of  documents  of  high  importance,  such  as 
Edward  I.'s  confirmation  of  the  Great  Charter,  and 
the  document  commonly  known  as  the  statute  de 
tallagio  11071  concedendo.  He  also  quotes  at  full 
length  a  large  number  of  original  letters,  especially 
in  the  reign  of  Edward  HI.,  in  which  the  text  is 
little  more  than  a  collection  of  what  we  might  call 
State  papers,  connected  together  by  a  slender 
thread  of  historical  explanatory  narrative. 

The  Chro7iicle  of  Latiercost,  which  ends  in  the 
same  year  as  Hemingburgh,  appears  to  have  received 
its  name  from  a  misapprehension  as  to  the  place 
where  it  was  compiled.  It  had  long  been  known 
as  a  very  valuable  record  of  Border  history,  but  it 
remained  in  manuscript  till  the  year  1839,  when  it 
was  edited  by  Mr.  Stevenson  for  the  Bannatyne 


i^ortj^crn  l^isitoriatt^.  197 

and  Maitland  Clubs.  Some  of  the  passages,  in 
which  the  writer  refers  to  the  priory  of  Lanercost,  in 
Cumberland,  are  such  as  might  easily  have  deceived 
a  cursory  reader;  but  Mr.  Stevenson  has  very 
clearly  shown  that  they  by  no  means  bear  out  the 
theory  that  the  work  was  composed  in  that  priory, 
while  there  is  evidence  scattered  up  and  down  the 
whole  chronicle  tending  to  show  that  the  writer 
was  a  Minorite  friar,  most  probably  belonging  to 
the  convent  of  Carlisle.  He  seems,  however,  to 
have  been  at  Berwick  in  the  year  13 12,  when  he 
saw  and  described  the  wonderful  rope  ladders  by 
which  Bruce  and  his  comrades  almost  succeeded  in 
scaling  the  walls  of  the  castle,  the  attempt  being 
only  defeated  by  the  barking  of  a  dog.  The  friars, 
from  their  wandering  habits,  were  great  go-betweens 
in  time  of  war,  and  our  author,  although  entirely 
English  in  his  sympathies,  obtained  a  good  deal  of 
information  from  the  brethren  of  his  own  order  in 
Scotland.  The  immunities  of  the  friars,  however, 
were  sometimes  found  troublesome,  and  in  1333, 
we  find  Edward  III.  commanding  that  all  the 
Scotch  friars  in  the  convent  at  Berwick  should 
leave  the  town,  and  that  English  friars  should  take 
their  places.  It  is  rather  amusing  to  read  that, 
when,  in  consequence  of  this  order,  two  English 
friars  came  to  the  convent,  some  of  their  Scotch 
brethren  while  preparing  to  depart  entertained  the 
newcomers  with  much  interesting  conversation  at 
dinner  time,  while  others,  breaking  into  the  library, 
packed  up  all  the  books,  chalices,  and  vestments, 


198  lEartg  C>f)toniflcr0  of  lEnglanD. 

tied  them  up  in  silk  cloths,  and  carried  them  off, 
saying  that  they  were  articles  lent  by  Patrick,  Earl 
of  March,  who  at  that  time  had  just  come  over  to 
the  English  side.  On  the  whole,  the  Chronicle  of 
Lanercost  is  one  of  the  most  interesting  of  these 
northern  records. 


CHAPTER    V. 


RECORDS   OF  THE   FRIARS. 


Actual  results  of  the  Crusades  injurious  to  Christian  faith  and 
morals — St.  Dominic  and  the  Preaching  Friars — The  Albigenses 
— St.  Francis — The  Eastern  leprosy — Devotion  of  the  Francis- 
cans— Thomas  of  Eccleston's  account  of  their  settlement  in 
England — Anecdotes — Aquinas  and  the  Schoolmen — Trivet's 
Annates — Stubbs's  Archbishops  of  York — Franciscan  Schoolmen 
— Roger  Bacon,  Scotus,  Occam. 

To  many  of  those  who  are  familiar  with  mediaeval 
chronicles  the  title  prefixed  to  this  chapter  may 
seem  a  strange  one.  The  direct  contributions  of 
the  friars  to  historical  literature  are  certainly  few 
in  number,  and  so  slender  in  amount  as  to  seem 
quite  unworthy  of  notice  beside  the  copious  and 
abundant  supplies  of  the  monastic  chronicles. 
Indeed,  when  one  considers  the  amazing  intellectual 
activity  of  the  men  (^i  whom  we  are  now  to  speak, 
their  unproductiveness  in  the  field  of  history  is  all 
the  more  remarkable,  and  it  might  well  seem  that 
in  a  work  such  as  the  present,  it  was  hardly  neces- 
sary to  make  any  special  allusion  to  their  labours 
at  all.     But  this  would  be  to  take  a  very  contracted 


200  lEarls  ©^ronicUr^  of  lEnglanli. 

view  of  a  great  subject.  The  historical  literature  of 
a  country  is  not  a  thing  to  be  studied  entirely  by 
itself;  nor  can  the  spirit  of  English  chronicles  be 
appreciated  without  reference  to  the  labours  of 
some  who  are  not  generally  called  by  the  name  of 
chroniclers.  More  particularly  in  studying  an  age 
of  great  social  revolution,  when  the  fountains  of 
the  great  deep  were  broken  up,  is  it  necessary  to 
turn  aside  from  the  pages  of  the  regular  historian, 
and  systematic  compiler  of  annals,  to  learn  what 
thoughts  possessed  the  minds  of  the  most  pro- 
found among  the  thinkers,  and  the  most  energetic 
among  the  doers  of  the  day.  For  this  reason  it  is 
that  we  must  again  call  attention  to  the  introduc- 
tion of  new  religious  orders,  and  bestow  a  few 
words,  however  brief,  upon  the  writings  of  the 
friars  and  the  schoolmen. 

The  Crusades  had  left  their  mark  upon  the 
world  —indeed  a  good  many  marks  ;  but  no  such 
mark  as  their  authors  had  intended.  The  Holy 
Land  had  not  been  recovered  from  the  Infidels;  the 
Saracens  had  not  been  converted.  It  had  been 
found  practically  impossible  for  Christians  to  treat 
the  Moslem  in  the  way  the  children  of  Israel  were 
taught  to  treat  the  Canaanites — as  men  with  whom 
no  peace  was  to  be  made.  The  Christians  of  that 
day  adopted  too  easily  a  very  different  principle 
and  regarded  their  enemies  for  some  time  as  men 
with  whom  no  faith  was  to  be  kept.  But  even  this 
was  a  rule  impossible  to  be  maintained.  Relations 
necessarily  grew  up   between  the   opposing   com- 


IcffectsJ  of  if)t  ®ru0atie0.  201 


batants ;  and  ere  long  the  commercial  cities  of  the 
Mediterranean  found  the  Infidel  a  very  good  cus- 
tomer. The  Crusades  had  opened  up  new  channels 
of  commerce  ;  and  with  the  material  luxuries  of 
the  East  came  also  its  intellectual  wares,  its  vices, 
and  its  horrible  diseases. 

Instead  of  the  Christians  converting  the  Moslem 
it  seemed  rather  that  the  faith  of  Christendom 
itself  was  being  undermined  by  Pagan  philosophy 
and  libertinism.  While  the  Saracens  still  held  the 
Holy  Land,  the  Moors  still  kept  possession  of 
Spain.  The  science  of  the  Arabians  had  gained 
great  influence  at  the  universities,  and  freethinkers 
were  disposed  to  bow  to  the  intellectual  supremacy 
of  Islam.  Manichean  tendencies  asserted  them- 
selves all  over  Europe — in  the  doctrines  of  the 
Albigenses — in  the  open  profligacy  and  epicurean- 
ism of  Frederick  II. — in  the  secret  practices  im- 
puted to  the  Templars.  The  Church  itself  was 
grossly  corrupt ;  the  law  of  priestly  celibacy  had 
made  things  even  worse.  The  priesthood  were 
thereby  cut  off  from  the  social  relations  and  every- 
day life  of  the  community,  while  the  superior 
sanctity  attributed  to  their  order  only  led  to  grosser 
demoralisation.  "It  is  no  longer  true,"  said  St. 
Bernard,  "  that  the  priests  are  as  bad  as  the  people  ; 
for  the  priests  are  worse  than  the  people."  In  such 
a  state  of  matters,  new  agencies  were  absolutely 
needed  to  cope  with  the  spiritual,  moral,  and  physi- 
cal diseases  of  the  times. 

For  the  spiritual  evils,  the  Spaniard,  St.  Dominic, 


202  ^adg  CTj^ronicIer^  of  lEnglant). 

believed  the  means  of  counteracting  them  was  by 
the  establishment  of  a  trained  society  of  preachers. 
He  himself  had  the  gift  of  eloquence  in  no  common 
measure,  and  had  already  distinguished  himself 
as  a  theologian  at  the  universities  of  his  native 
country,  when  he  left  Spain  to  accompany  the 
bishop  of  Osma,  his  diocesan,  whom  Alfonso  IX., 
of  Castile,  had  sent  on  a  diplomatic  mission  to  the 
south  of  France.  That  mission  accomplished,  the 
bishop  and  he  obtained  leave  of  the  Pope  to  take 
part  in  certain  efforts  which  were  then  being  made 
for  the  conversion  of  the  Albigenses.  His  energy 
in  this  vocation  soon  became  conspicuous  and  led 
to  the  institution  of  the  order  of  Preaching  Friars 
commonly  called  after  him  Dominicans.  At  first 
they  were  only  new  communities  of  the  Canons 
Regular  of  St.  Augustine;  for  the  institution  of 
new  orders  was  not  looked  upon  with  favour ;  but 
in  the  end  their  rule  was  confirmed  by  a  bull  of 
Honorius  HI.,  in  1216,  which  conferred  on  them  the 
distinctive  name  of  Fr aires  Proedicantes.  They 
were  popularly  known  in  England  as  the  Black 
Friars. 

Unhappily,  mere  preaching  did  not  sufBce  to 
convert  the  heretics,  and  St.  Dominic  obtained 
papal  authority  to  hold  courts  which  formed  an  evil 
precedent  for  the  Inquisition  of  after  days.  Sus- 
pected heretics  were  called  before  these  tribunals 
and  questioned  as  to  their  belief.  The  object  may 
have  been  to  reason  with  and  convince  the  un- 
learned ;  the  effect  was  only  to  confound  them  with 


tri^c  ^tcacj^mg  iftiatjs.  203 

the  subtleties  of    the  schools.     But   the  obstinate 
were  punished,  even  with  the  punishment  of  death. 
This   naturally   did    not    tend    to    peace.     Sharp 
disputes  arose,  and  a  papal  legate  who  had  rebuked 
to   his   face    Count    Raymond   of    Toulouse,   was 
murdered  by  one  of  the  count's  dependants, — not 
indeed  in  cold  blood,  like  Becket,  but  in  an  angry 
altercation  arising  out  of  his  former  boldness.     Still, 
a  papal  envoy  had  died  a  martyr's  death,  and   a 
crusade  was  proclaimed  by  the  Pope  against  the 
unhappy  heretics.     Dominic  himself,  v/ho  had  at 
first   been   solicitous   rather   to    persuade  than   to 
persecute,  was  its  principal  instigator.     Simon  de 
Montfort  was  the  leader   of  the   expedition ;  and 
after  a  war  of  ruthless  indiscriminate  slaughter  the 
unhappy  Albigenses  were  in  the  end  exterminated. 
But   though   preaching  to  avowed  heretics  had 
thus  failed  in  its  intended  effect,  the  order  of  the 
Preaching  Friars  became  popular  elsewhere.     Their 
oratory  was  attractive,  and  they  had  an  abode  in 
every  considerable  town.     Unlike  the  monks,  whose 
ordinary  life  was  spent  within  the  cloister,  or  the 
clergy  whose  ordinary  duties  were  discharged  in 
church,  these  men  were  continually  abroad  among 
the  people,  preaching  to  them  the  duty  of  adhering 
to  the  Church,  and  warning  them   against  heresy 
and  schism.     It  added   weight,    moreover,  to   their 
exhortations  that  in  order  to  qualify  themselves  for 
their  mission,  they   had,    in    accordance   with   St. 
Dominic's    injunctions,    to    renounce     all     private 
property,  and  depend    for   their   subsistence  upon 


204  lEarlg  ©IitoniclerjJ  of  lEnglantJ. 

charity.  Their  dwelling-house  and  church  might 
be  sumptuous  buildings ;  but  the  friars  themselves 
were  to  share  in  the  poverty,  the  toil,  and  the  labour 
of  the  classes  to  whom  they  principally  addressed 
themselves. 

But  the  popularity  of  the  Dominicans,  especially 
in  England,  was  greatly  exceeded  by  that  of  the 
Franciscan  order. 

St.  Dominic  had  addressed  himself  too  exclu- 
sively to  the  spiritual  evils  of  the  time.  St.  Francis, 
3  layman,  set  himself  rather  to  the  relief  of  its 
physical  ailments.  His  thoughts,  like  those  of 
other  men,  had  been  at  one  time  directed  towards 
the  Saracens,  but  he  found  work  far  more  urgent 
and  pressing  to  be  done  among  the  neglected 
population  of  the  towns.  Born  at  Assisi,  in  central 
Italy,  he  had  been  brought  up  as  factor  for  his 
father,  a  wealthy  merchant,  and  he  had  learned 
through  his  commercial  occupations  the  real  wants 
and  miseries  of  the  age.  **  He  had  to  strip  Christi- 
anity, in  the  first  instance,"  says  Mr.  Brewer,  "  of 
the  regal  robe  in  which  popes  and  prelates  had 
invested  it ;  to  preach  it  as  the  gospel  of  the  poor 
and  the  oppressed.  It  was  not  to  be  a  trap  for 
men's  obedience ;  it  was  not  to  demand  a  surrender 
of  that  independence  which  the  commons  of  the 
towns  had  guarded  so  jealously,  and  purchased  at 
such  costly  sacrifices.  He  caught  the  poorest  in 
their  poverty  ;  the  subtle  in  their  subtlety ;  sending 
among  them  preachers  as  ill-clad  and  as  ill-fed, 
but  as  deep  thinkers  in  all  respects  as  themselves. 


St  iFtanri^.  205 


.  ,  .  His  followers  are  to  visit  the  towns  two  and 
two,  in  just  so  much  clothing  as  the  commonest 
mendicant  could  purchase.  They  are  to  sleep  at 
nights  under  arches,  or  in  the  porches  of  desolate 
and  deserted  churches,  among  idiots,  lepers,  and 
outcasts  ;  to  beg  their  bread  from  door  to  door ;  to 
set  an  example  of  piety  and  submission." 

It  is  difficult  to  realise  the  condition  of  the  towns 
in  those  days.  They  were  behind  the  country  in 
civilization.  Monasteries  afforded  to  the  rural 
population  the  means  of  education  and  supplied 
their  spiritual  wants ;  but  the  towns  possessed  no 
such  advantages.  Least  of  all  did  the  inhabitants 
of  the  low  and  fetid  suburbs,  where  the  last 
refugees  from  feudal  tyranny  took  up  their  abode, 
— least  of  all  did  these  dregs  of  city  life,  packed 
together  in  narrow  lanes  close  upon  the  town  ditch, 
know  anything  of  the  humanities,  or  experience 
any  of  the  Christian  charity  of  the  times.  It  was 
in  these  quarters  that  plague  and  pestilence  com- 
mitted the  most  fearful  ravages.  In  these  quarters 
the  Eastern  leprosy  took  up  its  abode. 

This  loathsome  and  horrible  disease  completely 
baffled  the  medical  skill  of  the  time.  No  method 
was  known  by  which  to  mitigate  the  scourge  or 
restore  the  afflicted  man  to  health  ;  only,  for  the 
sake  of  the  community  at  large  he  must  be  turned 
out  of  house  and  home  and  cut  off  from  social 
intercourse.  St.  Francis  was  the  first  who  did 
anything  to  relieve  the  lot  of  these  miserable  out- 
casts ;  but  what  a  struggle  with  nature  it  required 


2o6  lEarlg  Q^])xomc\tt$  of  IcnglanD. 

in  any  one  to  attempt  the  task  we  may  learn  from 
his  words  alone.  "  When  I  was  in  the  bondage  of 
sin,"  he  wrote,  "  it  was  bitter  and  loathsome  to  me 
to  see  and  look  upon  persons  infected  with  leprosy  ; 
but  that  blessed  Lord  brought  me  among  them, 
and  I  did  mercy  with  them,  and  I  departing  from 
them,  what  before  seemed  bitter  and  loathsome 
was  turned  and  changed  to  me  into  great  sweet- 
ness and  comfort  both  of  body  and  soul." 

In  the  Mirror  of  his  Life  {Speculum  Vitcc),  com- 
posed by  some  of  his  companions,  we  see  how 
deliberately  he  set  himself  to  overcome  this  loath- 
ing. On  one  occasion  he  fears  he  has  given  way 
to  it  in  such  a  manner  as  to  hurt  the  feelings  of 
one  of  the  unhappy  sufferers.  "  Therefore,"  we  are 
told,  "  wishing  to  make  satisfaction  to  God  and  the 
leper,  he  confessed  his  guilt  to  Peter  Cataneus,  the 
minister  general,  and  begged  him  to  confirm  the 
penance  that  he  intended  to  impose  upon  himself. 
Then,  said  St.  Francis,  this  is  my  penance  ;  to  eat 
out  of  the  same  dish  with  this  Christian  brother. 
When  all  were  seated  at  table  a  single  dish  was 
placed  between  St.  Francis  and  the  leper.  He 
was  a  leper  all  over,  disgusting  for  his  open  ulcers, 
especially  as  his  fingers  were  covered  with  sores 
and  blood,  insomuch  that  as  he  dipped  his  fingers 
in  the  dish  and  carried  the  morsels  to  his  mouth, 
the  gore  and  blood  dropped  into  the  dish.  As  the 
friars  looked  on  they  were  greatly  grieved  and 
pained  at  the  sight.  But  for  the  reverence  they 
bore  him,  not  one  dared  utter  a  word.     He  that 


Shu  iprand^.  20; 


saw  these  things  bore  record  of  them  and  wrote 
them." 

A  still  finer  triumph  of  his  Christian  fortitude 
and  humility  is  recorded  in  the  same  work  as 
follows : — 

"  He  appointed  that  the  friars  of  his  order,  dispersed  in 
various  parts  of  the  world,  should,  for  the  love  of  Christ, 
diligently  attend  the  lepers  wherever  they  could  be  found. 
They  followed  this  injunction  with  the  greatest  promptitude. 
Now,  there  was  in  a  certain  place  a  leper  so  impatient,  fro- 
ward,  and  impious,  that  every  one  thought  he  was  possessed 
by  an  evil  spirit.  He  abused  all  that  served  him  with  terrible 
oaths  and  imprecations,  often  proceeding  to  blows.  What 
was  still  more  fearful,  he  uttered  the  direst  blasphemy  against 
Christ  and  His  holy  Mother,  and  the  holy  angels.  The 
friars  endured  this  ill-usage  patiently,  but  they  could  not 
tolerate  his  blasphemies  ;  they  felt  they  ought  not,  and  there- 
fore they  resolved  to  abandon  the  leper  to  his  fate,  having 
first  taken  counsel  with  St.  Francis.  Brother  Francis  visited 
the  leper,  and  upon  entering  the  room  said  to  him,  in  the 
usual  samiation  :  *  The  Lord  give  thee  peace,  brother.' 
*  What  peace,'  exclaimed  the  leper,  *  can  I  have,  who  am 
entirely  diseased  ? '  '  Pains  that  torment  the  body,'  replied 
St.  Francis,  *  turn  to  the  salvation  of  the  soul  if  they  are 
borne  patiently.'  'And  how  can  I  endure  patiently,' rejoins 
the  leper,  '  since  my  pains  are  without  intermission  night  and 
day  ?  Besides,  my  sufferings  are  increased  by  the  vexation 
I  endure  from  the  friars  you  have  appointed  to  wait  upon 
me.  There  is  not  one  of  them  who  serves  me  as  he  ought.' 
St.  Francis  perceived  that  the  man  was  troubled  by  a  malig- 
nant spirit,  and  went  away  and  prayed  to  God  for  him. 
Then  returning  he  said,  *  Since  others  do  not  satisfy  you,  let 
me  try.'  *  You  may,  if  you  like  ;  but  what  can  you  do  more 
than  others  ?  *  *  I  am  ready  to  do  whatever  you  please,* 
replied  St.  Francis.     'Then  wash  me,'  replied  the  leper, 


2o8  "Earlg  ©jbronklet^  of  lEnglanD. 

'  because  I  cannot  endure  myself.  The  stink  of  my  wounds 
is  intolerable.*  Then  St.  Francis  ordered  water  to  be 
warmed  with  sweet  herbs,  and,  stripping  the  leper,  began  to 
wash  him  with  his  own  hands,  whilst  a  friar  standing  by 
poured  water  upon  him.'* 

Such  were  the  duties  that  St.  Francis  undertook 
himself  and  enjoined  upon  his  followers.  How 
hard  it  seemed  to  comply  with  the  severity  of  such 
a  rule  we  can  well  imagine.  When  he  first  appeared 
before  the  Pope  with  a  copy  of  the  regulations 
which  he  proposed  to  lay  down,  they  seemed  so 
utterly  repulsive  and  impracticable  as  only  to  excite 
contempt.  The  reception  he  met  with  on  this 
occasion  is  recorded  as  follows  by  Roger  of  Wend- 
over,  a  monk  of  St.  Alban's,  who  was  contemporary 
with  St.  Francis  himself : — 

"  The  Pope  gazed  fixedly  on  the  ill-favoured  mien  of  the 
aforesaid  brother,  his  mournful  countenance,  lengthened 
beard,  his  untrimmed  hair,  and  his  dirty,  overhanging  brow  ; 
and  when  he  heard  his  petition  read,  which  it  v/as  so  difficult 
and  impracticable  to  carry  out,  despised  him  and  said,  *  Go, 
brother,  go  to  the  pigs,  to  whom  you  are  more  fit  to  be  com- 
pared than  to  men,  and  roll  with  them,  and  to  them  preach 
the  rules  you  have  so  ably  set  forth.'  Francis,  on  hearing 
this,  bowed  his  head  and  went  away  ;  and  having  found 
some  pigs  he  rolled  with  them  in  the  mud  till  he  had  covered 
his  body  and  clothes  with  dirt  from  head  to  foot ;  he  then, 
returning  to  the  consistory,  showed  himself  to  the  Pope  and 
said.  *  My  lord,  1  have  done  as  you  ordered  me  ;  grant  me 
now,  I  beseech  you,  my  petition.'  The  Pope  was  astonished 
when  he  saw  what  he  had  done,  and  felt  sorry  for  having 
treated  him  with  contempt,  at  the  same  time  giving  orders 
that  he  should  wash  himself  and  come  back  to  him  again. 


'Ef)e  iFtanci^can  JFttar^.  209 

He  therefore  cleansed  himself  from  his  dirt,  and  returned 
directly  to  the  Pope.  The  Pope,  being  much  moved,  then 
granted  his  petition,  and,  after  confirming  his  office  of  preach- 
ing as  well  as  the  order  he  applied  for,  by  a  privilege  from 
the  Church  of  Rome,  he  dismissed  him  with  a  blessing." 

Only  by  such  indomitable  perseverance  could 
St.  Francis  have  attained  his  end.  Willing  to 
undergo  everything  in  a  great  cause  himself,  he 
infused  a  like  spirit  into  his  followers.  Attendance 
upon  lepers  was  required  of  all  who  joined  his  order. 
The  self-sacrifice  involved  was  the  more  striking 
because  the  new  missionaries  were  not  selected 
from  the  lower  ranks  of  society,  but  from  the  well- 
educated  and  refined.  A  sound  body  and  a  good 
understanding,  with  some  amount  of  learning,  were 
insisted  on  as  indispensable  requisites  for  admis- 
sion ;  a  bastard,  a  bondman,  and  a  man  in  debt 
were  equally  ineligible.  Yet,  whatever  property  a 
man  had  he  must  absolutely  renounce  in  order  to 
be  a  disciple  of  St.  Francis.  Henceforth  he  was 
to  possess  nothing  in  the  world  but  the  coarse  robe 
and  mantle  about  him,  and,  in  some  cases,  shoes. 
For  his  support,  he  was  to  beg  his  bread  from  door 
to  door.  In  this  rigid  poverty  not  even  books  were 
allowed — not  even  a  psalter  or  a  breviary  to  aid 
his  devotions.  And  so  strictly  was  the  rule  ob- 
served that  Roger  Bacon,  in  the  succeeding  age, 
told  the  Pope  he  could  not  put  the  results  of  his 
researches  in  writing  without  a  special  dispensation 
from  his  Holiness  to  allow  him  ink  and  parchment 
Debarred  thus  from  literature  and  literary  pur- 
ENG.  P 


2IO  lEadg  ®|^ronicIerj5  of  lEnglanO. 

suits,  the  Franciscan  set  himself  more  devotedly  to 
the  work  of  tending  the  sick.  This  practical  duty, 
however,  gave  a  new  turn  to  thought,  and  led  him 
to  study  the  remedial  powers  of  nature.  The  very 
casting  aside  of  books,  and,  with  books,  of  the 
subtleties  of  philosophy  and  logic  as  studied  at  the 
universities,  threw  him  on  the  teaching  of  nature 
itself  and  caused  him  to  examine  experimentally 
the  healing  qualities  of  the  different  kinds  of  herbs. 
Systematic  researches  paved  the  way  for  true 
physical  science  ;  physical  studies  paved  the  way 
for  metaphysical,  and  the  very  men  who  had  begun 
by  renouncing  the  learning  of  the  age  became 
themselves  the  greatest  promoters  of  learning. 
From  their  ranks  arose  the  great  schoolmen  and 
the  philosophers  of  the  succeeding  age. 

In  thus  briefly  tracing  the  origin  and  history  of 
the  Franciscans,  we  have  merely  followed  and  con- 
densed what  has  been  far  more  ably  written  of 
them  by  the  Rev.  J.  S.  Brewer,  in  the  preface  to  his 
valuable  collection  of  documents  relating  to  the 
order,  entitled  Momnnenta  Franciscana.  We  shall 
now  be  indebted  to  the  body  of  the  same  work 
for  a  few  pictures  of  these  friars,  and  how  they 
lived  at  the  time  of  their  first  settlement  in  this 
country.  First  among  the  contents  of  the  book  is 
a  treatise  by  Thomas  of  Eccleston,  "  on  the  coming 
of  the  Minorites  into  England,"  a  very  simple, 
unadorned  narrative  of  the  history  of  that  settle- 
ment. The  Franciscan  order,  it  should  be  men- 
tioned,   were    at    first    called   Friars   Minors,    or 


Zf)t  JFrand^can  Jpriar^,  211 

Minorites,  a  name  that  was  intended  to  impress 
upon  them  the  duties  of  humility,  and  to  show  the 
essential  character  of  their  vocation.  They  were 
to  be  the  ''  Lesser  Brethren  "  of  all  whom  it  was  in 
their  power  to  benefit.  In  after  times,  however, 
they  were  more  commonly  called  after  their 
founder,  Franciscans,  and  in  England,  from  the 
colour  of  their  habit  they  were  commonly  known 
as  the  Grey  Friars,  just  as  the  Dominicans  were 
known  as  the  Black. 

Thomas  of  Eccleston  would  seem  to  have  been 
one  of  the  second  generation  of  English  Grey  Friars, 
who  had  known  and  had  much  intercourse  with 
the  original  members  of  the  order.  He  tells  us 
that  he  had  been  induced  by  the  marvellous  things 
related  of  other  orders  to  collect  the  accounts  which 
his  fosterfathers  and  brethren  among  the  Francis- 
cans had  related  to  him  of  his  own  during  a  period 
of  five  and  twenty  years.  His  work  is  divided  into 
fourteen  chapters,  of  which  the  first  is  the  account 
of  the  first  arrival  of  Friars  Minors  in  England  in 
1224,  the  same  year  that  the  rule  of  their  founder 
St.  Francis  was  confirmed  by  Pope  Honorius  HI. 
In  that  year  four  clerks  and  five  lay  brethren  of  the 
order  landed  at  Dover  on  Tuesday,  loth  Septem- 
ber. Their  names  and  some  little  personal  descrip- 
tion of  each  are  given  in  the  narrative.  Their 
superior  was  Brother  Agnellus  of  Pisa,  whom  St. 
Francis  himself  had  appointed  to  be  provincial 
minister  in  England.  The  other  three  clerks  were 
Englishmen  born,  the  third,  by  name  William  de 


212  lEarlg  ®5Tomcler^  of  lEnglaiiD. 

Esseby,  being  still  a  novice  and  young  in  years. 
Of  him  it  is  related,  as  an  example  of  the  obedient 
spirit  so  strongly  inculcated  among  the  brethren, 
that  being  asked  by  the  provincial  minister  of 
France  if  he  wished  to  go  into  England,  he  replied 
that  he  did  not  know ;  and  when  the  minister  was 
surprised  at  this  answer,  he  explained  to  him  that 
the  reason  he  did  not  know  was  because  his  will 
was  not  his  own  ;  whatever  the  English  provincial 
determined  about  it,  he  himself  would  wish.  He 
was  a  man  of  remarkable  gentleness  and  suavity, 
who,  says  the  author,  "  led  into  the  way  of  salvation 
many  fitting  persons  of  various  ranks,  ages,  and 
conditions  ;  and  he  proved  to  the  eyes  of  many 
that  the  blessed  Jesus  knew  how  to  do  wonders 
and  by  locusts  to  conquer  giants."  * 

The  brethren  were  taken  across  the  Channel  for 
charity  by  the  monks  of  Fecamp,  in  Normandy. 
On  reaching  Canterbury  they  were  entertained  two 
days  by  the  monks  at  the  priory  of  Holy  Trinity  ; 
and  then  four  went  on  to  London,  while  the  five 
others  turned  to  the  priests'  hospital  and  remained 
there  till  they  had  provided  a  place  for  themselves. 

"  A  small  chamber  in  a  school-house  was  granted  to  them, 
where  they  sat,  as  it  were,  shut  up  from  day  to  day.  But 
when  the  scholars  returned  home  in  the  evening  they  entered 
the  house  in  which  they  sat,  and  there  made  themselves  a* 
fire  and  sat  about  it  ;  and  sometimes  when  they  were  going 
to  have  a  little  supper,  they  set  upon  the  fire  a  little  pot  with 

*  An  allusion  to  Numbers  xiii.  33.  The  locusts  of  the  Vulgate  are 
''grasshoppers"  in  our  version. 


^jb^  iFtand^can  iFrtar^,  213 

the  dregs  of  beer,  and  put  a  dish  upon  the  pot  and  drank  all 
round  ;  and  they  each  said  some  word  of  edification.  And 
by  the  testimony  of  one  who  was  a  partaker  of  this  simple 
fare,  and  made  himself  the  companion  and  sharer  of  their 
poverty,  the  beer  was  at  times  so  thick  that  when  the  dishes 
were  to  be  heated  they  poured  in  water,  and  so  drank  with 
joy.  The  like  also  happened  frequently  at  Salisbury,  where 
the  brethren  at  supper  time  drank  mere  dregs  about  the 
kitchen  fire  with  so  much  joy  and  hilarity  that  any  one 
esteemed  himself  happy  who  succeeded  in  snatching  them 
from  another  in  a  friendly  fashion." 

The  strictness  with  which  they  followed  the  rule 
of  poverty  in  those  days  was  such  that  they  would 
scarcely  contract  a  debt  even  for  their  extreme 
necessities.  When  Brother  Agnellus,  the  provincial 
minister  of  the  order,  visiting  the  warden  of  their 
house  at  London,  desired  to  hear  from  the  friars 
there  how  much  they  had  spent  within  one  term, 
he  was  so  shocked  even  at  a  very  moderate  expen- 
diture, that  he  threw  away  their  rolls  and  tallies, 
and  striking  himself  in  the  face,  declared  that  from 
thenceforth  he  would  never  audit  any  account  what- 
ever. It  is  also  recorded  that  at  one  of  their  houses, 
two  strange  brethren  having  arrived  weary  and 
footsore,  the  house  hardly  knew  how  to  entertain 
them,  as  they  had  not  a  drop  of  beer.  On  a  con- 
sultation among  the  seniors,  the  warden  determined 
to  borrow  a  pot  of  beer,  but  it  was  agreed  that  the 
brethren  of  the  convent  should  not  drink  them- 
selves, but  only  pretend  to  drink  along  with  the 
strangers  "  propter  caritatem."  "  In  the  convent  at 
London,"  adds  the  writer,  "  I  have  seen  the  friars 


2T4  lEarlg  ^l^ronute  of  ISnglantl. 


drink  such  sour  beer  that  some  would  prefer  water, 
and  eat  bread  which  the  people  call  a  twist  {torta), 
and  even  when  bread  failed  they  would  persistently 
eat  other  things  in  the  presence  of  the  minister  and 
guests." 

The  four  friars  who,  leaving  their  brethren  at 
Canterbury,  went  on  to  London  and  founded  the 
first  settlement  in  the  metropolis,  were  entertained 
for  a  fortnight  by  the  already  established  com- 
munity of  Black  Friars.  They  then  took  a  house 
in  Cornhill  and  made  cells  in  it,  filling  up  the 
interstices  with  grass.  They  remained  till  the 
following  summer  without  a  chapel,  not  having  yet 
obtained  a  faculty  to  erect  altars  and  celebrate  the 
mass.  Before  many  weeks  were  over,  two  of  the 
four  started  for  Oxford,  where  again  the  Black 
Friars  gave  them  a  kindly  reception  for  eight  days, 
till  they  hired  a  house  in  the  suburbs,  in  the  parish 
of  St.  Ebb's.  After  the  community  there  had 
received  some  accessions  they  sent  forth  an  off- 
shoot to  Northampton,  and  in  the  same  way  new 
communities  were  founded  at  Lincoln,  Cambridge, 
and  other  towns.  Within  thirty-two  years  from 
their  first  arrival  in  England  the  number  of  Grey 
Friars  throughout  the  country  had  reached  1242, 
and  the  number  of  their  houses  was  forty-nine. 

It  must  not  be  supposed,  however,  that  the  first 
devotees  who  gave  themselves  up  to  this  life  of 
poverty  and  hardship  were  spared,  even  in  that  age, 
more  than  such  men  would  be  in  our  day,  a  severe 
conflict  with   social  prejudice.    Brother  Solomon, 


one  of  the  earliest  novices,  who  was  afterwards 
warden  of  the  London  house,  was  appointed  to 
collect  alms  for  the  brethren,  and  went  to  the  house 
of  his  own  sister  with  that  object.  She  brought 
him  bread,  but  turned  away  her  face  exclaiming, 
"  Cursed  be  the  hour  in  which  I  ever  saw  thee ! " 
It  was  the  first  of  Brother  Solomon's  trials.  He 
used  to  endure  such  cold  in  procuring  faggots,  or 
meal  and  salt,  or  figs  for  a  sick  brother,  that  he 
thought  he  should  have  died  ;  and  the  brethren 
not  having  other  means  to  warm  him,  gathered 
round  and  pressed  him  to  their  bosoms  "  as  is  the 
manner  of  pigs,"  says  our  author.  He  was  ordained 
as  an  acolyte  by  Archbishop  Stephen  Langton, 
dined  at  the  archbishop's  table,  and  returned  home 
along  with  one  of  his  seniors  barefooted  through 
deep  snow.  The  result  was  that  he  was  lamed  in 
one  foot,  and  could  not  stir  for  two  years.  Friar 
Jordan,  the  superior  of  the  Dominicans,  visited 
him  in  his  infirmity,  and  said  to  him,  "  Brother,  be 
not  ashamed  if  the  Father  of  our  Lord  Jesus  Christ 
draw  thee  to  him.  by  the  foot."  His  case  grew  so 
bad  that  the  surgeons  advised  amputation,  an 
operation  which  was  then  performed  with  an  axe ; 
but  when  the  instrument  was  brought  and  the  foot 
uncovered  matter  issued  from  the  sore,  which  gave 
some  hope  of  amendment.  He  was  sent  abroad  to 
visit  the  shrine  of  some  foreign  saint,  and  in  time 
recovered  so  completely  as  to  officiate  at  the  altar 
and  walk  without  a  stick.  But  afterwards  he  broke 
his  spine,  became  humpbacked,  and  was  afiHicted 


2i6  "Earls  ©j^ronicler^  of  ItnglanU. 

with  dropsy  till  his  death.  On  the  day  before  he 
died  he  suffered  an  agony  to  which  all  his  preceding 
pains  seemed  as  nothing ;  but  calling  on  three  of 
his  more  special  friends  to  pray  for  him  he  had  a 
vision  of  Jesus  Christ  and  St.  Peter,  in  which  our 
Lord  assured  him  of  the  forgiveness  of  his  sins, 
and  his  anguish  at  once  departed. 

Of  visions  and  the  like  it  is  only  right  to  expect 
somewhat  in  these  narratives,  and  our  author  goes 
on  to  recount  several  others,  of  which  the  first  will 
be  thought  rather  too  much  in  keeping  with  the 
squalor  and  filth  with  which  the  life  of  the  friars 
forced  them  to  make  acquaintance  : — 

"  It  is  worthy  of  memory  that  when  the  brethren  were  in 
their  place  at  Cornhill,  the  Devil  came  visibly,  and  said  to 
IJrother  Gilbert  de  Vyz,  when  he  was  sitting  alone,  *  You  think 
you  have  escaped  me  ?  There,  take  that/  and  threw  upon 
him  a  handful  of  lice,  and  vanished." 

Our  author  then  goes  on  to  speak  of  their  holi- 
ness of  life,  their  cheerfulness,  and  their  assiduity, 
in  daily  journeying  barefooted  to  schools  of  theo- 
logy, in  spite  of  cold  and  mud,  till  they  became 
competent  preachers.  He  then  relates  how,  in  the 
first  provincial  chapter,  at  London,  the  whole  of 
England  was  divided  into  wardenries,  and,  in  con- 
nection with  this  part  of  their  history,  gives  rather 
an  amusing  story,  He  first  tells  how,  at  Oxford, 
in  the  wardenship  of  Friar  Peter,  the  brethren  used 
no  pillows.     And  he  adds  : — 

''  Neither  did  the  friars  wear  shoes  unless  they  were  sick 
or  ill,  and  then  by  special  permission.     It  happened,  more- 


'^f>(  iFrann^an  iPriat^.  217 

over,  that  Friar  Walter  de  Madeley,  of  happy  memory, 
found  two  shoes,  and  when  he  went  to  matins  put  them  on. 
He  stood  at  matins  accordingly,  as  it  appeared  to  himself,  in 
better  condition  than  usual.  But  afterwards,  when  he  went 
to  bed,  and  was  resting,  it  appeared  to  him  that  he  had  to  go 
through  a  dangerous  pass  between  Oxford  and  Gloucester, 
Boysalym  (?),  where  there  are  usually  robbers,  and  when  he 
was  going  down  into  a  deep  valley  they  ran  up  to  him  on 
each  side  of  the  way,  shouting, '  Kill  him  !  kill  him  P  Over- 
powered with  dread,  he  said  he  was  a  Friar  Minor  ;  but  they 
said,  *You  lie,  for  you  do  not  walk  barefooted.'  He,  be- 
lieving himself  to  be,  as  usual,  unshod,  said,  *  Yes,  I  do  walk 
barefooted,'  and  when  he  boldly  put  forth  his  foot,  he  found 
himself  before  them  shod  with  those  shoes  ;  and  in  his  ex- 
cessive confusion  he  immediately  awoke  from  sleep,  and 
pitched  the  shoes  into  the  middle  of  the  yard." 

The  author  then  shows  how  some  difficulties 
arose  about  the  observance  of  their  rule  in  the 
matter  of  building,  from  the  increased  popularity 
of  the  order  causing  a  demand  for  increased  ac- 
commodation ;  after  which  he  speaks  of  the  erec- 
tion of  schools  by  Brother  Agnellus  at  Oxford, 
in  which  he  persuaded  the  celebrated  Bishop 
Grosseteste,  of  Lincoln,  to  deliver  the  first  lectures. 
The  author  himself  was  a  student  in  these  schools. 
There  were  also  readers  at  Cambridge  belonging 
to  the  order,  of  whom  he  has  a  word  to  say. 
Several  of  the  friars,  who  did  not  preach,  were, 
nevertheless,  authorized  to  hear  confessions,  and 
Brother  Solomon,  of  London,  was  the  general  con- 
fessor, both  of  the  citizens  and  of  the  court.  Two 
chapters  of  the  book  are  devoted  to  the  history  of 
the  successive  general  and  provincial  ministers  of 


2i8  lEatlg  €5tontclcr0  of  lEnglanD. 


the  order.  With  all  their  holiness  we  find  that 
the  brethren  were  not  without  dissensions  among 
themselves,  and  that  Brother  Elias  was  deposed 
from  the  office  of  minister-general  after  a  sharp 
and  bitter  discussion  before  the  Pope.  It  seems 
that  he  had  never  professed  the  rule  of  the  order, 
laid  down  in  the  Pope's  bull,  about  not  receiving 
money,  yet  his  adherents  had  succeeded  in  turning 
out  his  predecessor,  and  getting  him  elected.  In 
the  chapter  on  the  provincial  ministers  we  have 
some  pleasant  anecdotes  like  the  following  of  Friar 
Albertus  of  Pisa  : — 

"In  the  aforesaid  collation  Friar  Albertus  told  a  parable 
against  the  presumption  of  young  men,  saying  that  there 
was  a  certain  bull  who  diverted  himself  in  the  meadows  and 
fields  just  as  he  would,  and  when,  one  day,  about  prime  or 
terce,  he  turned  aside  to  the  ploughing,  and  saw  that  the  old 
oxen  paced  leisurely  along  the  furrow,  and  had  ploughed 
very  little,  he  blamed  them,  and  said  he  would  have  done  as 
much  at  a  start.  And  they  begged  him  to  help  them.  And 
when  he  was  placed  in  the  yoke,  he  ran  with  too  great  force 
to  the  middle  of  the  furrow,  and,  being  weary  and  out  of 
breath,  he  looked  round,  and  said,  *  What !  is  it  not  all  done?' 
And  the  old  oxen  answered,  *  Not  yet,'  and  laughed  at  him. 
Then  the  bull  said  he  could  go  no  further.  They,  on  the 
other  hand,  told  him  that  they  went  more  slowly  for  that  very 
reason,  because  they  had  to  work  continually,  and  not  only 
for  a  time." 

Friar  Albertus  is  described  as  a  strict  enough 
disciplinarian,  who  ordered  silence  to  be  invariably 
observed  at  table,  except  when  they  had  Domini- 
cans or  friars  of  other  provinces  for  their  guests. 


Zl)c  dFsrandjScan  iFHatjS,  219 

He  also  desired  that  the  friars  would  wear  old 
coats  over  new  ones,  both  for  the  sake  of  humility 
and  for  economy  in  wear.  At  the  same  time,  he 
did  not  encourage  needless  austerities  calculated 
to  injure  the  health  r^ 

"  He  compelled  Friar  Eustace  de  Merc  to  eat  fish  contrary 
to  his  custom,  saying  that  the  order  lost  many  good  persons 
by  their  indiscretion.  He  said  also  that  when  he  was  staying 
with  St.  Francis  in  a  certain  hospital,  the  saint  compelled 
him  to  double  the  daily  portion  of  food  that  he  had  been 
used  to  eat.  He  was  also  so  liberal  that  he  gravely  rebuked 
a  certain  warden,  and  likewise  a  Dominican,  because  they 
had  not  provided  more  abundantly  for  the  convent  after 
labour  at  a  certain  solemnity." 

Thus  St.  Francis  himself,  it  will  be  seen,  though 
he  laid  down  a  rule  of  severe  self-denial,  did  not 
imitate  the  spirit  of  the  later  monastic  orders  in 
submitting  the  body  to  unnecessary  constraint. 
Except  on  ordinary  vigils  and  fasts,  he  allowed  his 
foUov/ers  to  eat  flesh  or  other  food  as  they  pleased, 
saying,  that  the  body  was  made  for  the  soul,  and 
ought  to  be  allowed  no  cause  to  complain  that  its 
wants  were  unattended  to.  In  like  manner  it  is 
recorded  by  Eccleston  of  Bishop  Grosseteste,  who 
was  a  special  friend  of  the  Franciscans,  that  "he 
enjoined  on  a  certain  melancholy  friar  that  he 
should  drink  a  cupful  of  the  best  wine  for  penance, 
and  when  he  had  drunk  it  up,  though  most  un- 
willingly, he  said  to  him,  *  Dearest  brother,  if  you 
had  frequently  such  penance,  you  would  certainly 
have  a  better-ordered  conscience.'  " 


2  20  lEarlu  ©^tomclcr^  of  ^nglant>. 


With  this  we  may  take  leave  of  Thomas  of 
Eccleston's  very  interesting  little  treatise,  one  of 
the  very  few  contributions  to  historical  literature 
that  came  from  the  friars.  From  what  has  been 
already  said,  it  will  not  be  thought  wonderful  that 
their  v/ritings  were  rare ;  but  it  is  all  the  more 
valuable  that  we  have  in  this  case  the  record  of  a 
social  movement  of  first-rate  importance,  which 
could  not  have  been  adequately  described,  except 
by  one  of  those  who  took  part  in  it. 

There  were  other  orders  of  friars  besides  the 
Black  and  the  Grey,  but  these  were  the  most  im- 
portant. Next  to  them  were  the  Carmelites,  or 
White  Friars,  and  the  Augustinians,  or  Austin 
Friars,  who,  with  the  former  two,  made  up  what 
were  continually  spoken  of  as  the  Four  Orders. 
Thus  it  is  said  of  the  friar  in  Chaucer — 

"  In  alle  the  Ordres  Foure  is  noon  that  can 
So  moche  of  daliaunce  and  fair  language." 

The  Carmelites,  driven  from  their  original  abode 
at  Mount  Carmel,  in  Palestine,  settled  in  the  dif- 
ferent countries  of  Europe,  and  came  to  England 
in  1240.  The  Austin  Friars  arrived  in  England 
about  ten  years  later. 

The  influence  of  all  these  new  orders  on  the 
thought  of  the  time  was  marked  and  extraordinary. 
Indeed,  it  would  scarcely  be  an  exaggeration  to 
say  that  during  the  latter  half  of  the  thirteenth 
century  the  friars  were  the  only  thinkers.  In  theo- 
logy, physics,  and  metaphysics,  they  reigned  su- 


Bomtmcan  ^d^oolmctt.  221 


preme ;  and  though  for  centuries  their  works  have 
been  little  read,  the  names  of  some  of  their  great 
thinkers  are  familiar  to  us  still. 

The  Dominican  order,  instituted  for  the  express 
purpose  of  cultivating  the  art  of  preaching  with  a 
view  to  the  conversion  of  heretics,  naturally  was 
the  first  to  produce  great  theologians  and  scholars. 
It  was  incumbent  on  them,  in  the  pursuit  of  the 
very  object  for  which  they  were  instituted,  to  popu- 
larize their  philosophy  as  much  as  possible.  Theo- 
logy was  in  that  day  a  thing  confined  to  the 
universities,  where  it  had  become  a  trite,  conven- 
tional study.  The  whole  science  had  been  so  sys- 
tematized in  the  preceding  century  by  the  Master 
of  the  Sentences,  as  he  was  called,  Peter  Lombard, 
the  disciple  of  Abelard,  that  the  teachers  believed 
they  had  nothing  to  do  but  to  read  from  what  was, 
indeed,  a  complete  body  of  divinity.  But  extracts 
from  the  Book  of  the  Sentences^  exhibiting  the 
opinions  of  the  Fathers  upon  obscure  and  knotty 
points  of  theology,  were  not  likely  to  make  a  satis- 
factory impression  on  the  minds  of  those  to  whom 
St.  Dominic  and  his  followers  addressed  themselves. 
It  was  essential  that  they  should  grapple  with  the 
heresies  of  the  time,  and  meet  them  in  the  language 
of  the  time.  The  Dominicans  accordingly  ad- 
dressed themselves  to  the  study  and  teaching  of 
divinity  with  a  thoroughness  which  had  not  been 
seen  before.  Following  the  methods  of  Aristotle, 
whose  study  was  now  in  the  ascendant  in  spite  of 
papal  efforts  to  brand  it  as  pagan  and  provocative 


222  lEarlg  ®|)romclcr^  of  lEngtanD, 

of  heresy,  they  soon  arrived  at  a  complete  and 
exhaustive  philosophy  of  things  both  divine  and 
human.  Albertus  Magnus,  the  German  philoso- 
pher, drew  up  what  was  in  effect  an  encyclopaedia 
of  all  the  sciences ;  but  the  man  whose  name 
chiefly  resounded  throughout  Christendom — **  the 
Angelical  Doctor,"  as  he  was  called  in  the  schools — 
the  brightest  ornament  of  his  own  age,  and  the 
leader  of  a  great  school  of  thought  for  many  a 
generation  after  him,  was  the  Italian,  Thomas 
Aquinas,  with  his  Siimma  Theologies^  or  complete 
body  and  essence  of  divinity.  He  it  was  who  was 
deemed  to  have  made  the  citadel  of  orthodoxy 
logically  impregnable,  discussing  every  question 
by  turns,  from  the  elementary  one  of  the  existence 
of  God  Himself,  and  stating  with  a  force  and 
clearness  equal  to  that  of  the  rationalists  them- 
selves every  possible  objection  that  could  be  taken 
to  the  truth  as  it  was  maintained  by  the  Church 
Catholic. 

Thomas  Aquinas  died  in  1274;  and  that  same 
year  the  crown  of  England  was  placed  on  the  head 
of  Edward  I.  by  a  Dominican  friar,  named  Robert 
Kilwardby,  who  had  been  promoted  the  year  before 
to  the  archbishopric  of  Canterbury.  This  fact  is 
in  itself  remarkably  suggestive  of  the  very  high 
estimation  in  which  the  order  was  held,  and  the 
influence  it  had  gained  in  less  than  sixty  years 
after  its  first  institucion.  But  in  those  sixty  years 
the  intellectual  achievements  of  the  order  had 
reached  their  climax  \  ^nd  its  greatness  now  began 


'Etibft  223 

to  wane.  Kilwardby  himself  was  a  very  volum- 
inous writer,  but  his  fame  did  not  even  approach 
that  of  "  the  Angelical  Doctor,"  and  not  one  of  his 
numerous  treatises  has  yet  found  its  way  into 
print.  Indeed,  there  is  scarcely  a  single  English 
Dominican  whose  literary  productions  can  be  ex- 
pected to  have  much  attraction  for  the  modern 
reader.  The  systematic  studies  of  the  order  were 
not  of  such  a  character  as  to  awaken  much 
sympathy  in  after  ages.  Yet  there  are  two  English 
Dominicans  who  desei've  a  passing  notice  here  as 
labourers  in  the  field  of  history. 

The  first  is  Nicholas  Trivet,  the  author  of  a 
valuable  set  of  annals,  extending  from  the  reign 
of  Stephen  to  the  death  of  Edward  I.  He  was 
the  son  of  Thomas  Trivet,  one  of  the  justices  in 
eyre  in  the  reign  of  Henry  HI.,  and  had  joined 
the  brotherhood  of  the  Dominicans  even  in  early 
youth.  Afterwards  he  studied  at  Oxford,  and 
also  at  Paris.  He  alludes  to  his  studies  at  the 
latter  university  in  his  preface  to  the  annals  above 
mentioned ;  and  it  appears  that  when  there,  he 
devoted  much  attention  to  the  history  of  the 
French  and  the  Normans,  making  careful  extracts 
of  anything  he  met  with  relating  to  that  of  his 
own  country.  The  result  of  these  researches,  as 
well  as  of  further  study,  was  embodied  in  his 
Annales  Sex  Regiim  Anglice ;  and  as  evidence 
of  a  systematic  intellectual  training,  too  seldom 
applied  to  the  study  of  historical  events,  it  is  of 
peculiar   interest.     In   clearness  of  narrative,  and 


d24 


lEarlg  &l)ton\c\m  of  lEnglanD, 


distinctness  of  statement  it  exhibits  a  marked 
advance  upon  the  ordinary  chronicles  of  the  time. 
The  language,  too,  is  polished  and  elegant,  as  is 
commonly  the  case  when  a  writer  makes  accuracy 
and  precision  his  chief  aim.  The  record  of  each 
year  is  headed  by  a  title,  showing  first  the  year  of 
our  Lord,  and  then  in  parallel  columns  that  of  the 
reigning  Pope,  and  of  the  emperor,  and  of  the 
French  and  English  kings  respectively,  as  follows: — 


D.  N.  J.  C 

P.               ROMANORUM.                   R. 

FRANCOKUM. 

ANCLORUM. 

MCXXXVI. 

InnocentJi  II. 
6. 

Lotharii  IV. 

Lodovici  VI. 
27. 

Stephani 
J. 

This  work  constituted  one  of  the  original  author- 
ities for  the  reign  of  Edward  I.,  being  for  that 
period  a  contemporary  history;  and  as  such  we 
may  allude  to  it  hereafter. 

Trivet  also  wrote  a  general  chronicle  of  the 
world  from  Adam  to  the  Incarnation,  and  another 
in  French,  from  the  Creation  to  the  thirteenth  year 
of  Edward  II.,  which  he  dedicated  to  the  Princess 
Mary,  daughter  of  Edward  I.  But  these  works 
still  remain  in  manuscript,  and  have  little  interest, 
even  for  the  historian. 

The  other  Dominican  writer  to  whom  we  have 
alluded,  is  Dr.  Ihomas  Stubbs,  the  author  of  a 
history  of  the  archbishops  of  York,  written  to 
vindicate  the  rights  of  that  see  against  the  primacy 
of  Canterbury.  It  begins  with  the  first  archbishop, 
Paulinus,  and  is  carried  down  to  the  fourty-fourth, 


JFtandgcatt  <^c5ooImcn.  225 

John  Thuresby,  who  died  in  1373.  It  appears 
that  Stubbs  also  wrote  an  account  of  the  illustrious 
men  of  his  own  order,  and  some  treatises  on  church 
law  and  morals  which  have  never  been  printed. 
He  is  by  no  means  so  interesting  a  writer  as  Trivet, 
nor  indeed  so  valuable. 

The  intellectual  history  of  the  Franciscan  order 
differs  greatly  from  that  of  the  Dominicans  as  the 
work  to  which  they  applied  themselves  was  dif- 
ferent. We  have  seen  already  that  St.  Francis  did 
not  encourage  literature,  or  even  allow  the  posses- 
sion of  books  by  his  followers,  who  accordingly 
found  occupation  for  their  minds  in  the  study  of 
nature.  The  result  was  a  race  of  physical  philo- 
sophers, unrivalled  for  the  extent  of  their  re- 
searches, and  for  their  penetrating  judgment  of 
things.  They  were  not,  however,  mere  material 
philosophers,  but  from  the  first  bestowed  much 
pains  upon  theology ;  and  from  the  contemplation 
of  God  and  nature  they  gradually  extended  their 
investigations  over  the  whole  field  of  human 
thought.  They  also  attracted  to  themselves,  in 
some  instances,  men  who  had  already  distinguished 
themselves  in  such  studies.  This  was  the  case 
with  our  countryman,  Alexander  of  Hales,  sur- 
named  "the  Irrefragable  Doctor"  (every  one  of 
the  great  Schoolmen  had  his  peculiar  epithet),  who 
gave  lectures  at  Paris,  and  became  the  teacher  of 
another  great  Franciscan  schoolman,  the  Italian 
Bonaventura,  second  in  fame  as  a  philosopher  and 
theologian  only  to  his  fellow-countryman  Aquinas. 


226  Icarlg  &f)toxiidtx^  of  lEnglanD. 

Bonaventura  was  called  by  his  disciples  "the 
Seraphic  Doctor."  His  life  was  pure  and  beautiful, 
his  insight  clear,  and  undimmed  by  passion.  Of 
some  of  his  works  it  was  said  by  Gerson,  two 
centuries  later,  that  he  had  been  reading  them  for 
thirty  years,  and  yet  had  scarcely  attained  to  a 
first  taste  of  their  sweets,  which  always  presented 
to  him  something  fresh  and  delightful  whenever  he 
recurred  to  them.  Mr.  Maurice*  has  analysed  a 
treatise  of  his,  concerning  "the  reduction  of  arts 
under  theology,"  which  contains  a  number  of 
very  beautiful  thoughts,  touching  the  different 
kinds  of  light,  external  and  internal,  which  come 
down,  according  to  St.  James's  saying,  from  the 
Father  of  lights  in  Heaven.  It  is  light,  according 
to  Bonaventura's  view,  which  is  the  source  of  all 
good  gifts. 

The  name  of  "  the  Illuminated  Doctor,"  however, 
was  reserved  for  another  great  foreign  scholar  of 
this  order,  Raymond  LuUy,  a  native  of  Majorca, 
whose  personal  history,  varied  and  full  of  adven- 
ture, is  perhaps,  of  all  biographies  of  the  period,  the 
most  characteristic  of  the  times.  A  soldier,  a 
poet,  and  a  libertine  at  the  beginning  of  his  career, 
at  the  age  of  thirty  he  was  conscience-smitten. 
Influenced  by  visions,  he  renounced  his  lawless 
life,  gave  all  his  goods  to  the  poor,  and  became  a 
follower  of  St.  Francis.  His  mind  at  the  same 
time  appears  to  have  been  occupied  with  the 
thought  of  a  new  moral  philosophy,  which  was  to 

*  Mediceval  Philosophy ^  215-222  (Ed.  1870). 


iFtanci^can  ^c^oolmni.  227 

rescue  sinners  like  himself,  turn  the  heretic  to 
orthodoxy,  and  convert  the  heathen.  With  this 
view  he  learned  Arabic  from  a  Saracen  slave  whom 
he  had  bought  for  the  very  purpose  ;  and  having 
filled  his  mind  with  Arabian  philosophy,  produced 
a  much-admired  treatise,  called  by  himself  Ars 
Lulliana^  and  by  his  followers  The  Great  Art, 
which  was  intended  to  simplify  the  acquisition  of 
truth  by  a  methodical  classification  of  ideas.  Not 
content,  however,  with  announcing  the  theory,  he 
eagerly  sought  leave  to  bring  it  to  a  practical  trial. 
He  visited  Rome,  Paris,  and  Genoa,  trying  in  vain 
to  impress  upon  the  Pope  and  others,  the  import- 
ance of  establishing  institutions  for  teaching  Arabic, 
and  sending  missionaries  to  the  Mahometans. 
Then,  unable  to  influence  others,  he  himself  sailed 
three  times  into  Africa,  exposing  himself  to  the 
greatest  hardships  and  dangers  in  his  zeal  to 
convert  the  Moslems.  And  after  his  third  attempt 
he  died  on  the  passage  home  from  the  sufferings 
that  he  had  endured. 

The  zeal  of  English  Franciscans  was  more 
tempered  by  discretion ;  yet  an  element  akin  to 
romance  is  traceable  in  some  of  the  anecdotes  of 
their  early  history  also.  Thus  the  circumstances 
attending  the  entrance  of  two  illustrious  English- 
men into  the  order  are  related  by  Eccleston  as 
follows : — 

"  Master  Adam  of  Oxford,  who  was  famous  throughout 
the  world,  had  made  a  vow  that  he  would  grant  any  request 
that  should  be  preferred  to  him  in  the  name  of  the  Blessed 


228  lEatlg  &f)ionit\m  of  lEnglanD. 

Mary  ;  and  he  told  this  to  a  certain  recluse  who  was  a  friend 
of  his.  She  r'^vealed  the  secret  to  her  friends  ;  that  is,  to  a 
monk  of  Reading,  to  another  of  the  Cistercian  order,  and  to 
a  friar  preacher,  teUing  them  that  they  could  gain  such  a  man 
in  such  a  way  ;  not  wishing  that  Adam  should  become  a 
Friar  Minor,  But  the  Blessed  Virgin  did  not  permit  any  one 
in  his  presence  to  make  the  needful  request,  but  deferred  it 
to  another  time.  One  night  he  had  a  dream  that  he  had  to 
cross  a  bridge,  where  some  men  were  throwing  their  nets 
into  the  stream,  endeavouring  to  catch  him  ;  that  he  escaped 
them  with  difficulty,  and  reached  a  peaceful  spot.  Now 
when,  by  the  divine  will,  he  had  escaped  all  others,  he  went 
casually  to  visit  the  friars,  and  during  the  conversation, 
William  de  Colville,  the  elder,  a  man  of  great  sanctity,  said 
among  other  things  to  Adam,  *  My  dear  master,  enter  our 
order  for  the  love  of  the  Mother  of  God,  and  help  our  sim- 
plicity.' And  Adam  immediately  consented  to  do  so,  as  if  he 
had  heard  the  words  from  the  lips  of  the  Mother  of  God. 
He  was  at  that  time  the  attendant  on  Master  Adam  de 
Marisco,  wore  his  livery,  and  wisely  induced  him,  by  the 
grace  of  God,  not  long  after  to  enter  the  order.  Now  it 
seemed  to  Adam  de  Marisco  that  on  a  certain  night  he  and 
his  companion  were  going  to  visit  a  certain  castle,  and  out- 
side the  gates  there  was  a  crucifix  painted,  and  whoever 
wished  to  enter  must  first  kiss  the  cross.  Friar  Adam  of 
Oxford  entered  first,  having  kissed  the  cross,  and  imme- 
diately afterwards  the  other  Friar  Adam  followed,  doing  the 
same.  But  the  former,  on  finding  the  staircase,  ascended 
with  so  much  rapidity,  that  he  was  soon  out  of  the  sight  of 
his  companion,  who  followed  him  and  cried  aloud,  'More 
slowly  !  More  slowly  ! '  But  the  other  was  seen  no  more. 
The  meaning  of  this  vision  was  soon  after  manifested  to  all 
the  brethren  in  England  ;  for  Friar  Adam,  after  his  admission 
visited  Pope  Gregory  [IX],  and  obtaining  the  pope's  assent  to 
preach  to  the  Saracens,  died  before  his  companion  at  Barlete. 
But  Adam  de  Marisco  entered  at  Worcester,  through  zeal  of 
greater  poverty." 


.'iFtanagcan  i^c^oolmen.  229 

The  popularity  of  the  Franciscans  in  England 
was  greater  than  in  any  other  country,  and  among 
the  distinguished  men  of  the  order  the  great  ma- 
jority were  Englishmen.  Besides  the  two  English 
schoolmen  already  named,  Adam  de  Marisco  and 
Alexander  of  Hales,  it  is  enough  to  mention  Roger 
Bacon,  Duns  Scotus,  and  Occam.  No  greater 
names  than  these  shine  in  the  intellectual  firma- 
ment of  the  thirteenth  and  fourteenth  centuries  ;  and 
though  with  regard  to  Scotus,  Scotland  and  Ireland 
contest  with  England  the  honour  of  having  given 
him  birth,  there  is  no  doubt  that  England  may 
claim  him  as  her  own  in  a  more  essential  point  by 
virtue  of  his  Oxford  education.  Of  Roger  Bacon, 
the  greatest  of  mediaeval  experimentalists,  it  rs 
unnecessary  to  say  much.  His  was  a  mind  that 
could  break  through  the  bondage  of  mere  authority 
and  raise  up  for  itself  a  complete  fabric  of  science 
in  almost  every  department  of  human  knowledge. 
But  with  science  we  are  not  here  concerned.  Duns 
Scotus  was  "  the  Subtle  Doctor  "  of  the  schools,  who 
dared  to  dispute  the  doctrines  of  Aquinas  and  drew  to 
Oxford,  it  was  said,  thirty  thousand  students  to  hear 
his  lectures.  From  Oxford  he  was  called  to  Paris, 
where  his  fame  still  increased,  and  he  was  afterwards 
sent  to  found  a  new  university  at  Cologne,  where 
the  citizens  went  forth  to  meet  him  at  his  approach 
and  carried  him  into  their  city  in  a  triumphal  car. 
At  Paris  he  maintained  in  a  public  disputation  the 
doctrine  of  the  Immaculate  Conception  of  the 
Virgin,  and  brought  over  the  whole  university  to 


230  1£arlg  CTj^roniclcr^  of  IcnglanD. 

his  view,  which  he  defended  by  elaborate  arguments 
against  two  hundred  objections.  But  his  greatness 
as  a  thinker  is  chiefly  shown  in  the  fact  that  for 
centuries  after  him  scholastic  minds  were  divided 
into  the  two  rival  sects  of  the  Scotists  and  the 
Thomists  according  as  they  favoured  his  philosophy 
or  that  of  Thomas  Aquinas. 

William  Occam  is  said  to  have  been  the  pupil  of 
Scotus,  but  he  differed  from  his  master  in  his  doc- 
trine of  "  universals  " — that  is  to  say,  of  general 
terms,  such  as  man,  horse,  or  the  like,  used  to  indi- 
cate genus  or  species.  Scotus  was  what  was  called 
a  realist, — he  considered  abstractions  to  be  realities, 
holding  that  the  idea  of  a  horse,  or  of  any  other 
species  of  object,  was  a  real  thing  which  existed 
before  any  individual  horse  or  object  of  the  kind 
was  ever  formed  ;  while  Occam  revived  the  old 
philosophy  of  the  nominalists,  who  considered  that 
generic  names  like  this  were  names  and  nothing 
more.  More  important,  however,  and  certainly 
more  interesting  to  the  modern  reader,  was  the  part 
Occam  took  in  argument  against  the  Pope's  inter- 
ference with  the  dominion  of  temporal  princes, 
which  formed  the  great  question  of  the  day.  Pope 
John  XXII.  was  the  object  of  his  special  invectives, 
whom  he  charged  with  introducing  new  opinions 
and  heresies.  It  was  a  bold  thing,  of  course,  to 
denounce  the  Pope  himself  as  a  heretic  ;  but  Occam 
did  so  and  maintained  that  a  heretical  pope  might 
be  tried  by  a  general  council  whose  decrees  it  would 
be  the  duty  of  the  emperor  to  enforce  against  him. 


iprattcbcatt  <5cj[)oolmen.  231 

Nearly  a  century  later  these  views  were  acted  upon 
by  the  council  of  Constance  which  deposed  another 
Pope  John  ;  but  Occam  had  to  take  refuge  from 
the  Pope  John  of  his  day,  and  put  himself  under 
the  protection  of  the  duke  of  Bavaria.  He  died  at 
Munich  in  1347. 

The  philosophy  of  Occam  exercised  undoubtedly 
a  very  great  influence  on  the  age  which  suc- 
ceeded him.  He  was  "the  Invincible  Doctor," 
whose  arguments  it  was  in  vain  to  contest ;  and  to 
him  was  largely  due  that  growing  spirit  of  resist- 
ance to  papal  supremacy  which  was  exhibited 
among  the  nations  of  Europe,  and  most  of  all  in 
England,  from  the  days  of  Wycliffe  to  the  Reform- 
ation. It  was  natural  enough  that  the  key-note  of 
that  resistance  should  have  been  first  sounded  by  a 
Franciscan  friar,  who  having  himself,  like  the  rest 
of  his  order,  abjured  the  possession  of  property, 
looked  upon  the  wealth  of  the  Church  as  an  abuse, 
and  desired  to  see  the  administration  of  temporal 
things  placed  entirely  in  the  hands  of  temporal 
princes.  It  was  the  friars  of  the  Middle  Ages,  and 
not  Wycliffe,  who  really  were  the  first  to  shake  the 
dominion  of  the  Pope  of  Rome.  It  was  they  who, 
pointing  to  apostolic  poverty,  suggested  how  Chris- 
tianity might  be  relieved  of  everything  that  was 
superfluous  and  reduced  once  more  to  its  essential 
principles.  In  another  age,  indeed,  they  grew  cor- 
rupt and  Wycliffe  took  up  the  theme  that  they  had 
dropped,  showing  no  small  dislike  to  the  successors 


232 


lEarlg  &f)xordc\tx^  of  lEnglanD. 


of  the  men  who  had  urged  it  before  ;  but  the  spirit 
of  the  great  revolution  which  shook  Europe  in 
the  sixteenth  century  lives  unmistakably  in  the 
writings  of  Occam,  who  died  two  hundred  years 
before  Luther  had  made  himself  conspicuous. 


CHAPTER  VI. 

THE  ST.  ALBANS  HISTORIANS  AND  LATER 
MONASTIC  CHRONICLES. 

Diminution  in  the  number  of  monastic  chronicles — Compensated  at 
first  by  minuteness  of  detail — Position  of  St.  Albans  as  a  centre 
of  news — First  formation  of  the  scriptorium  at  St.  Alban's — Roger 
of  Wendover— Plan  of  his  chronicle — His  account  of  the  papal 
interdict— Matthew  Paris — His  character  as  an  historian — Ex- 
tracts from  his  chronicle— William  Rishanger — Trivet's  account 
of  Edward  I.  transcribed  by  him — Other  continuators  of  Matthew 
Paris — Thomas  Walsingham— His  account  of  Wat  Tyler's  rebel- 
lion— Whethamstede's  Register— End  of  the  age  of  monastic  chro- 
nicles— Higden's  Polychronicon — Trevisa —  Caxton. 

It  was  not  to  be  expected  that  the  friars  could 
leave  behind  them  anything  like  the  voluminous 
and  careful  histories  which  monastic  chroniclers 
have  bequeathed  to  us.  Of  all  pursuits  in  the 
world,  there  is  none  which  demands  seclusion  and 
study  so  much  as  the  writing  of  history ;  and,  on 
the  whole,  the  life  of  a  friar  was  not  one  of  seclu- 
sion. While  the  monk  was  shut  up  within  his  cell, 
having  at  his  command  a  valuable  library,  with 
which,  and  with  the  aid  of  borrowed  books,  he 
could  frame  new  histories  of  times  gone  by,  the 


234  lEarlfi  ©Jironkler^  of  lEnglanD. 

friar  was  abroad  in  the  world,  preaching,  and 
begging,  and  tending  the  sick.  Such  time  as  he 
could  afford  to  give  to  study  at  all  was  commonly 
devoted  to  the  congenial  subjects  of  theology  and 
physics ;  there  was  little  inducement  to  spend  it  in 
the  investigation  of  past  events.  His  library,  even 
after  the  brethren  were  allowed  to  have  books  at 
all,  was  in  all  probability  a  scanty  one,  compiled 
by  the  labour  of  his  own  fraternity,  with  little  or 
no  aid  from  the  archives  of  older  institutions. 
Hence  the  brief  and  scanty  chronicles  which  these 
men  possessed  were  commonly  to  a  great  extent 
original,  and  were  often  mainly  devoted  to  the 
history  of  their  own  respective  orders. 

Indeed,  the  new  stimulus  given  to  thought  in 
other  directions  by  the  labours  of  the  friars  and  the 
schoolmen  was  in  itself  no  small  bar  to  the  writing 
of  history ;  and  soon  after  this  we  note  a  consider- 
able falling  off  in  the  number  of  contemporary 
chronicles,  even  of  monastic  origin.  It  is  seldom 
found  that  a  great  advance  in  science  and  scientific 
modes  of  thinking  is  accompanied  by  an  increased 
study  of  the  records  of  past  times.  On  the  con- 
trary, it  is  precisely  these  things  which  most  excite 
the  mind  to  speculation,  and  draw  it  furthest  away 
from  those  sober  records  which  possess  a  human 
interest  to  more  unsophisticated  natures.  A  pros- 
pective imagination,  whether  bent  on  discovering 
the  philosopher's  stone,  or  on  verifying  some  new 
theory  of  life,  cannot  easily  train  itself  to  look 
back,  and  see  if  there  is  any  wisdom  to  be  learned 


^f)e  Bt  ^IBan'^  ?^gtorian^.  235 

from  the  experience  of  our  forefathers  in  matters  of 
every-day  concern.  But  in  the  end  the  scientific 
stimulus  reaches  history  as  well  as  other  subjects, 
and  historical  literature,  too,  bears  the  impress  of 
deeper  and  more  careful  thought. 

So  it  was  in  those  Middle  Ages.  Even  in  the 
thirteenth  century  the  number  of  monastic  chroni- 
cles had  very  considerably  diminished,  and  it  went 
on  diminishing  still  further  for  fully  two  hundred 
years,  when  at  length  these  compositions  ceased 
entirely  and  their  place  was  supplied  by  writings 
of  another  kind.  But  the  diminution  in  the  number 
of  contemporary  histories  was  at  first  largely  com- 
pensated by  improvement  in  quality  and  copious- 
ness ;  and  perhaps  no  reign  in  English  history,  till 
we  come  to  the  age  of  newspapers,  has  been  more 
minutely  chronicled  than  that  of  Henry  III. 

It  is  to  the  writings  of  certain  monks  of  St. 
Alban's  that  we  owe  almost  all  our  knowledge  ot 
that  very  eventful  period  ;  and  the  fact  that  the 
great  history  of  the  time  was  composed  within  one 
of  the  largest  of  English  monasteries,  is  in  itself 
suggestive  of  the  new  conditions  under  which 
history  was  now  written.  That  the  monasteries 
were  the  great  repositories  of  historical  learning 
had  been  for  ages  undisputed  ;  but  it  now  appeared 
that  the  resources  of  the  largest  establishments 
could  alone  furnish  satisfactory  materials  for  the 
composition  of  nev/  histories.  Moreover,  there  was 
an  advantage  in  being  near  the  centre  of  affairs  ; 
St.  Albans  was  not  a  very  long  day's  ride  from 


236  lEarlg  &frcomc\m  of  lEnglanU. 

London,  was  frequently  honoured  by  visits  from 
royalty,  and  was  generally  in  communication  with 
the  court.  One  of  those  admirable  highways  left 
to  us  by  the  Romans,  stretching  out  into  the  centre 
and  north  of  England,  connected  the  place  with  the 
metropolis,  so  that  pilgrims  and  wayfarers  froiv 
every  quarter  received  the  hospitality  of  the  monks, 
and  brought  them  news  of  every  thing. that  could 
possibly  be  worth  recording.  It  was  known,  too, 
that  within  the  abbey  walls  a  faithful  record  was 
continually  kept  up  of  all  that  was  heard  of  doing 
in  the  outside  world  ;  and  once,  as  we  have  re- 
marked already,  Matthew  Paris,  the  official  chroni- 
cler of  the  house,  was  called  upon  by  the  king 
himself  to  witness  a  solemnity  and  put  it  upon 
record  for  future  ages. 

Matthew  Paris,  however,  was  not  the  first  of 
those  monastic  chroniclers  whose  personal  relations 
with  the  king  and  the  leading  men  of  the  time  gave 
him  special  facilities  for  collecting  information. 
William  of  Malmesbury  was  intimate  with  the 
court  of  Henry  I.,  and  enjoyed  the  patronage  of 
his  son  the  earl  of  Gloucester.  After  him,  too, 
there  had  been  no  lack  of  historical  writers  familiar 
with  the  court,  but  it  is  doubtful  whether  any  of 
them  belonged  to  the  monastic  order.  Henry 
of  Huntingdon  certainly  did  not,  and  neither  did 
Giraldus  Cambrensis.  Roger  of  Hoveden  was  one 
of  King  Richard's  clerks,  was  sent  by  him  on  con- 
fidential messages  between  England  and  the  con- 
tinent, and  held  a  commission  at  one  time  as  justice, 


Zi)(  ^t  ^ftatt'0  ?&igtor{att0.  237 

to  hold  pleas  of  the  forest  in  Northumberland.  But 
all  this  shows  that  he  was  a  clerical  lawyer,  not  a 
monk ;  and  it  seems  as  if,  just  at  this  particular 
period,  the  art  of  narrating  events  was  cultivated 
more  largely  outside  the  cloister.  Yet  the  monas- 
teries had  never  ceased  to  be  the  special  schools  of 
history ;  and  it  would  appear  that  the  court  had 
begun  to  take  note  of  the  fact  in  a  way  it  had  not 
done  before. 

It  might  even  be  surmised  from  the  language  of 
Matthew  Paris  that  he  was  occasionally  admitted 
to  the  king's  council  chamber  on  some  such  footing 
as  reporters  for  the  press  are  now  to  the  House  of 
Commons.  At  least,  in  the  year  1236  he  is  careful 
to  tell  us  not  only  of  a  number  of  new  laws  approved 
in  council  for  the  benefit  of  the  realm,  but  also  of 
one  proposed  enactment  which  was  discussed,  and 
which  the  king  would  not  agree  to.  The  whole 
tenor  of  the  different  ordinances  carried  on  this 
occasion  is  so  minutely  recorded,  together  with  the 
substance  of  the  rejected  measure,  that  it  is  clear 
the  report  must  be  regarded  as  in  some  sense  an 
official  one.  A  great  monastery  was,  in  fact,  from 
one  point  of  view  a  treasure-house,  in  which  the 
king  himself  and  his  council  may  have  thought  it 
advantageous  to  deposit  important  documents,  or 
have  them  transcribed  and  interwoven  with  a  nar- 
rative of  current  history.  That  this  was  actually 
the  way  in  which  Henry  lU.  considered  it,  is  more, 
perhaps,  than  we  are  quite  warranted  in  asserting 
as  a  fact :  but  there  is  no  doubt  at  all,  from  what 


238  lEarlg  ©jbronicUt^  of  lEnglantJ. 

Matthew  Paris  himself  tells  us,  that  he  sometimes 
admitted  the  monastic  historian  to  friendly  inter- 
course, and  even  deigned  to  dispute  with  him  con- 
cerning affairs  of  state.  Nor  does  it  appear  that 
this  great  honour  made  the  writer  at  all  subser- 
vient. On  the  contrary,  he  rebuked  the  king  some- 
times to  his  face,  and  recorded  the  rebuke  after- 
wards in  the  pages  of  his  chronicle. 

Facts  like  these  undoubtedly  indicate  a  man  of 
great  personal  weight  and  independence  of  judg- 
ment. Yet  it  is  probable  that  the  official  position 
of  the  writer  was  at  that  time  one  of  very  consider- 
able influence  and  power.  For  the  St.  Alban's 
school  of  historians  had  already  acquired  a  very 
high  celebrity ;  and  Matthew  Paris  himself,  in  the 
work  to  which  we  have  alluded — for  he  was  the 
author  of  several  others — was  only  the  continuator 
of  a  history  begun  before  his  day  within  the  walls 
of  the  same  abbey.  It  is  therefore  fitting,  before 
further  reference  to  his  labours,  that  we  should 
bestow  a  few  words  upon  those  of  his  predecessors. 

It  appears  from  ancient  records  long  preserved 
within  the  abbey  itself  that  the  original  formation 
of  a  scriptorium  there  was  the  work  of  Abbot  Paul, 
a  Norman,  related  to  Archbishop  Lanfranc ;  that 
two  parts  of  the  tithes  of  Hatfield  were  given  for 
its  endowment  by  a  Norman  nobleman,  who  was 
lord  of  that  manor  ;  and  that  the  abbot  had  at  first 
to  hire  scribes  from  other  places,  Lanfranc  supply- 
ing them  with  manuscripts  to  copy.  Succeeding 
abbots  made  various  contributions  of  books,  among 


'^i)t  ^t  ^\hm*^  ?1^0tortatt0»  239 

which  we  hear  of  a  missal  bound  in  gold,  and  other 
volumes  of  a  similar  character  with  golden  illumina- 
tions. Towards  the  close  of  the  next  century,  one 
Walter,  who  filled  the  offices  of  librarian  and  pre- 
centor, is  believed  to  have  compiled  a  chronicle  of 
English  affairs  ending  with  the  death  of  King 
Stephen ;  and  this  work  must  have  been  adapted 
and  added  to  by  Roger  of  Wendover,  who  suc- 
ceeded him  as  historiographer  of  the  monastery. 
On  the  death  of  Roger  of  Wendover,  again,  Ms 
work  was  in  like  manner  made  use  of  by  Matthew 
Paris  as  the  foundation  of  a  larger  and  more 
extensive  chronicle  carried  down  to  later  times. 
But  the  chronicle  of  monk  Walter  no  longer  exists 
as  a  separate  composition ;  whereas  the  work  of 
Roger  of  Wendover  is  still  extant  in  its  original 
form,  as  well  as  the  larger  chronicle  in  which  it  was 
incorporated  by  Matthew  Paris. 

The  reader  will,  doubtless,  remember  one  inter- 
esting extract  which  we  have  made  from  Wen- 
dover's  chronicle  already,  giving  an  account  of  the 
interviews  St.  Francis  held  with  the  Pope  to  induce 
him  to  confirm  his  rule.  From  this  alone  some 
estimate  may  be  formed  of  the  writer's  power  in 
dealing  with  telling  incidents.  Roger  of  Wendover 
liked  a  good  story  occasionally,  and  told  it  well. 
But  originality  does  not  appear  to  have  been  his 
aim.  He  only  selected  from  the  best  authors  what 
seemed  most  valuable  and  interesting  to  put  on 
record.  For  this  reason  he  entitled  his  work 
Flowers  of  History ;    and  in  his  introduction  he 


«4o  lEarlg  C^lbtonute  of  lEnglanl), 

tells  us  why.  "  That  which  follows,"  he  says,  "  has 
been  taken  from  the  books  of  Catholic  writers 
worthy  of  credit,  just  as  flowers  of  various  colours 
are  gathered  from  various  fields,  to  the  end  that 
the  very  variety,  noted  in  the  diversity  of  the 
colours,  may  be  grateful  to  the  various  minds  of 
the  readers,  and,  by  presenting  some  which  each 
may  relish,  may  suffice  for  the  profit  and  enter- 
tainment of  all." 

It  was  therefore  not  for  what  he  wrote  from  his 
own  knowledge,  but  for  what  he  borrowed  from 
other  sources  that  Wendover  chiefly  claimed  atten- 
tion to  his  work  ;  and  though  the  judgment  of  the 
modern  historian  as  to  its  value  is  certainly  very 
different,  we  must  by  no  means  overlook  the  plan 
of  the  work  itself  It  is  divided  into  two  books, 
the  first  of  which  is  devoted  to  ancient  history  from 
the  beginning  of  the  world  to  the  Incarnation, 
derived  partly  from  the  Old  Testament  and  partly 
from  more  modern  writers,  among  whom  was 
Geoffrey  of  Monmouth.  The  second  is  a  com- 
pendium of  modern  history  commencing  at  the 
Christian  era,  in  the  form  of  annals  carried  down 
to  the  author's  own  time.  Not  a  single  year  is 
passed  by  without  notice ;  and  as  the  preface  to 
this  part  of  the  work  informs  us,  it  gives  an  account 
of  all  the  popes  and  emperors  of  Rome,  of  various 
bishops,  kings,  and  princes  in  different  parts  of  the 
world,  and  of  their  acts  both  good  and  evil.  But 
as  the  narrative  comes  down  to  more  modern  times, 
it   is   almost    exclusively    occupied   with   English 


JHogo:  of  2I8l(ntober.  241 

history,  and  the  events  in  which  England  was  very 
largely  concerned.  It  becomes  also  much  more 
full  and  elaborate  ;  and  from  the  beginning  of  King 
John's  reign  it  may  be  regarded  as  an  original 
work.  At  the  end  of  the  year  1235,  the  author- 
ship is  shown  by  a  note  which  says,  "Thus  far 
extend  the  Chronicles  of  Master  Roger  de  Wen- 
dover." 

It  appears  that  this  author  was  at  one  time  pre- 
centor of  St.  Alban's  Abbey,  and  was  afterwards 
appointed  prior  of  the  cell  of  Belvoir  belonging  to 
that  community,  but  being  accused  of  extravagance 
in  his  administration  he  was  deposed  and  recalled 
to  St.  Alban's.  This  is  supposed  to  have  been 
about  the  year  123 1.  His  chronicle,  or  at  all 
events  the  latter  part  of  it,  must  have  been  com- 
posed during  the  next  five  years,  and  apparently 
the  later  events  must  have  been  written  down 
almost  immediately  after  they  occurred ;  for  he 
died  on  the  6th  May,  1236,  and  his  narrative  comes 
to  an  end  at  the  close  of  the  year  preceding.  As 
an  historian  he  is  lucid  and  impartial.  It  is  from 
him  we  derive  most  of  the  information  we  possess 
about  the  reign  of  King  John ;  and  the  straight- 
forward simplicity  with  which  he  tells  the  tale, 
denouncing  wickedness  and  injustice  where  neces- 
sary, without  invective  or  high  colouring  of  any 
kind,  is  greatly  commended  by  his  editor,  Mr. 
Coxe.  As  a  specimen  of  this  quiet  style  we  may 
give  an  extract  relating  to  one  of  the  most  inter- 
esting events  of  the  reign,  the  Papal  Interdict : — 

ENG.  R 


242  lEarls  ©j^roniclet^  of  lEnglantJ. 

"  King  John  had  now  for  nearly  two  years,  as  has  been 
said  before,  unceasingly  continued  throughout  England,  on 
account  of  the  interdict,  a  most  severe  persecution  against 
tlie  clergy  as  well  as  some  of  the  laity,  and  had  entirely 
destroyed  all  kind  of  hope  in  every  one  of  any  improvement 
or  satisfaction,  and  Pope  Innocent  could  no  longer  put  off 
the  punishment  of  his  rebellion.  Wherefore,  by  the  advice 
of  his  cardinals,  he,  in  order  to  cut  up  by  the  root  such  an 
insult  to  the  Church,  gave  orders  to  the  bishops  of  London, 
Plly,and  Winchester,  to  declare  the  said  king  excommunicated 
by  name,  and  solemnly  to  publish  this  sentence  every  Sunday 
and  fcastday  in  all  conventual  churches  throughout  England, 
that  thus  the  king  might  be  more  strictly  shunned  by  every 
one.  But  after  the  aforesaid  bishops  had,  by  the  apostolic 
authority,  entrusted  the  publication  of  this  sentence  to  their 
fellow  bishops  who  had  remained  in  England,  and  to  the 
other  prelates  of  the  Church  ;  they  all,  through  fear  of  or 
regard  for  the  king,  became  like  dumb  dogs  not  daring  to 
bark,  wherefore  they  put  off  fulfilling  the  duty  enjoined  on 
them  by  the  apostolic  mandate,  and  failed  to  proceed  accord- 
ing to  the  usual  course  of  justice.  Nevertheless,  in  a  short 
time  the  decree  became  known  to  all  in  the  roads  and  streets, 
and  even  in  the  places  of  assembly  of  the  people  it  afforded  a 
subject  of  secret  conversation  to  all.  Amongst  others,  as 
Geoffrey,  archdeacon  of  Norwich,  was  one  day  sitting  in  the 
cxchocjuer  at  Westminster,  attending  to  the  king's  business, 
he  began  to  talk  privately  with  his  companions  who  sat  with 
him,  of  the  decree  which  was  sent  forth  against  the  king,  and 
said  that  it  was  not  safe  for  beneficed  persons  to  remain  any 
longer  in  their  allegiance  to  an  excommunicated  king  ;  after 
saying  which  he  went  to  his  own  house  without  asking  the 
king's  permission.  This  event  coming  soon  after  to  the 
knowledge  of  the  king,  he  was  not  a  little  annoyed,  and  sent 
William  Talbot,  a  knight,  with  some  soldiers,  to  seize  the 
arclideacon,  and  they,  after  he  was  taken,  bound  him  in 
chains  and  threw  him  into  prison.  After  he  had  been  there 
a  few  days,  by  command  of  the  said  king,  a  cap  of  lead  was 


i^ogcr  of  223[ctttiobcr»  243 

put  on  him,  and  at  length,  being  overcome  by  want  of  food 
as  well  as  by  the  weight  of  the  leaden  cap,  he  departed  to 
the  Lord." 

From  a  story  like  this  recorded  by  a  contem- 
porary pen  we  can  realize  better  than  by  any  other 
means  by  what  influence  a  despotic  king  was  most 
effectually  held  in  check  in  the  beginning  of  the 
thirteenth  century.  As  yet  the  voice  of  public 
opinion  in  England  itself  was  weak  and  had  to  be 
supported  by  the  public  opinion  of  Christian 
Europe  uttered  by  the  head  of  Christendom  ;  nor 
was  it  by  any  means  easy,  even  thus,  to  bring  a 
tyrant  to  account.  But  the  wickedness  and  cruelty 
of  King  John  were  surely  working  out  a  remedy 
which  all  his  wiliness  could  not  ultimately  with- 
stand. The  Church,  and  the  barons,  and  a  foreign 
enemy  besides,  would  all  have  combined  against 
him  with  irresistible  force ;  and  though  by  his 
abject  submission  to  the  papacy  he  succeeded  in 
dividing  their  powers  and  turning  his  most  formid- 
able opponent  into  a  friend,  he  had  still  to  reckon 
with  the  Church  at  home  united  with  the  barons 
in  demanding  Magna  Charta. 

The  chronicle  of  Roger  de  Wendover  was  tran- 
scribed, with  some  additions,  by  Matthew  Paris,  who 
continued  it  from  the  year  1235,  where  his  pre- 
decessor left  off.  The  name  o(  this  new  writer, 
properly  Matthew  of  Paris,  (Matthaeus  Parisiensis), 
has  been  supposed  to  imply  that  he  was  either  born 
or  educated  at  the  Fiench  capital  ;  but  so  little  is 
known  of  his   personal  history  that   this    is    little 


2  44  lEarlg  ^l^ronicler^  of  lEnglanti. 

more  than  conjecture.    The  name  of  Paris  is  found 
as  an  English  patronymic  in  the  thirteenth  century. 
Moreover,  although  our  earliest  friars  came  from 
abroad,  and  even  the  English  members  of  those 
orders  had  often  studied  at  that  famous  centre  of 
European  scholarship,  I  believe  that  the  inmates  of 
a  monastery  were  commonly  natives  of  the  adjoin- 
ing district,  and  had  seldom  received  the  advantages 
of   a   foreign  training.      But   Matthew  Paris   was 
certainly  a  very  exceptional  monk,  and  his  pecu- 
liar qualities  as  an  historian  may  well  be  supposed 
due  to  an  exceptional  education.     His  remarkable 
fluency  of  style,  accompanied  as  it  is  by  a  breadth 
of  view   and  a  comprehension    of   foreign   affairs 
rarely  found  in  the  untravelled  Englishman  of  that 
day,  to  which  may  be  added  the  fact  that  he  was 
acquainted  with  French,  and  some  evidence  in  his 
writings  of  apparent   familiarity  with  the   French 
capital,  go  far  to  justify  the  speculation.     At  the 
same  time  there  is  an  evident   endeavour  in  the 
work  which  we  are  now  considering  to  continue  it 
on  the  lines  laid  down  by  his  predecessor,  and  con- 
fine it  for  the  most  part  to  matters  connected  with 
the  history  of   England.     All  his  other  writings, 
moreover,  are  equally  limited  in  their  scope.     His 
pen  is  recognized  in  biographies  of  the  two  Ofifas, 
kings  of   Mercia,  (the  elder  Ofifa  was  a  mythical 
personage,  but  they  were  both   believed  to  have 
been   founders    of    St.   Alban's)  and  of  the   first 
twenty-three    abbots  of  the    monastery,   from   its 
original  foundation  to  the  author's  own  day.     So 


iHatt^cfo  J^ari0.  245 


that  it  would  seem,  after  all,  that  his  affections 
were  entirely  English  and  local  unless  we  suppose 
that  they  were  governed  by  a  sense  of  duty  to  the 
establishment  to  which  he  belonged. 

All  we  really  know  about  him,  however,  is  that 
he  made  his  profession  as  a  monk  of  St.  Alban's  on 
the  2 1st  January,  12 17,  and  that  nineteen  years 
afterwards,  that  is  to  say  in  1236,  he  was  appointed 
to  succeed  Wendover  as  chronographer  to  the 
abbey,  in  which  capacity  he  must  have  been 
busily  occupied  till  his  death,  or  at  least  for  about 
seventeen  years,  with  one  remarkable  interruption. 
In  1248  he  was  sent  by  the  Pope  on  a  special 
mission  to  the  monks  of  Holm,  in  Norway,  but 
returned  after  an  absence  of  eighteen  months  and 
resumed  his  duties  in  the  abbey.  His  death  must 
have  occurred  between  the  years  1253  and  1259. 

It  is  generally  believed  that  besides  being  an 
accomplished  penman  he  was  also  a  skilful  artist 
and  illuminator  of  manuscripts,  and  moreover  that 
he  was  a  notable  worker  in  gcM  and  silver  and 
other  metals.  Indeed  there  is  very  little  doubt  that 
some  of  his  works  of  art  survive,  especially  drawings 
in  manuscripts  ;  but  the  attempt  to  identify  them 
seems  to  be  very  hazardous  and  has  led  to  some 
controversy  in  our  day.  Among  other  things  he 
is  considered,  though  even  this  seems  doubtful,  to 
have  been  the  author  of  three  curious  drawings  of 
an  elephant  sent  to  England  by  Lewis  IX.  in  1255, 
as  a  present  to  king  Henry  III.  These  are  re- 
markable  enough   in   their  way   as   showing    the 


246  lEarlj  ©l^ronklcrjS  oC  1EngIanti» 

strong  impression  which  the  creature's  dark,  mas- 
sive form  had  made  upon  the  imagination  of  the 
artist ;  and  though  they  may  scarcely  satisfy  the 
critical  eye  of  a  generation  familiar  with  the  Zoo- 
logical Gardens,  they  must  have  been  regarded  as 
very  special  treasures  at  a  time  when  the  animal 
was  so  rarely  seen  in  the  West  of  Europe.  If 
they  were  really  the  work  of  Matthew's  pencil  they 
display  a  vigour  of  execution  not  unworthy  of  their 
author. 

But  whatever  may  have  been  the  merits  of 
Matthew  Paris  as  an  artist,  it  cannot  be  said  that 
he  greatly  studies  artistic  effect  in  writing.  His 
narrative  is  plain,  straightforward,  and  lucid,  with 
here  and  there  a  little  bit  of  graphic  description, 
but  it  contains  nothing  that  is  highly  coloured  or 
introduced  as  a  mere  embellishment.  The  whole 
interest  of  the  history  arises  simply  out  of  the  facts 
themselves  and  the  truthfulness  with  which  they 
are  depicted.  The  writer  was  far  too  much  inter- 
ested in  what  he  had  to  tell  to  adorn  it  with  mere- 
tricious graces.  He  was  a  politician  who  felt  the 
moral  significance  of  all  that  took  place  in  his  day, 
whether  in  England,  at  Rome,  or  in  the  distant 
East  ;  and  he  expresses  his  judgment  without  the 
least  reserve,  alike  on  the  acts  of  his  own  sovereign, 
of  his  countrymen,  and  of  the  court  of  Rome.  He 
is,  in  fact,  the  most  distinctly  political  historian  with 
whom  we  have  yet  had  to  do.  He  has,  no  doubt, 
his  feelings  as  a  monk,  resenting  the  presumption,  in 
some  cases,  of  these  new  orders  of  friars,  though 


iH:attSefo  ^arfi^.  247 


even  here  his  complaints  seem  very  fair.  But  his 
thoughts  rise  altogether  above  mere  class  and 
party  considerations.  He  is  not  so  much  a  monk 
as  an  English  politician,  and  yet  not  English  ex- 
clusively, but  cosmopolitan.  His  merits,  even  in 
his  own  day,  as  a  man  of  great  judgment  and 
impartiality  seem  to  have  been  renowned  over 
Europe,  for  it  was  at  the  request  of  the  monks  of 
Holm,  in  Norway,  that  he  was  sent  thither  by  the 
Pope  to  restore  discipline  in  the  monastery  and 
secure  it  against  the  usurpations  of  the  Archbishop 
of  Drontheim. 

But  it  is,  of  course,  as  an  English  politician  that 
he  is  most  interesting  to  ourselves  ;  and  especially 
so,  considering  the  period  at  which  he  wrote.  The 
progress  of  the  great  constitutional  struggle  be- 
tween the  days  of  Magna  Charta  and  the  be- 
ginning of  our  parliamentary  system  is  a  subject 
which  stood  in  special  need  of  illustration  from 
such  a  clear-sighted  and  impartial  spectator.  As 
yet,  it  must  be  remembered,  there  are  no  commons 
to  vote  supplies  ;  the  king  is  at  the  mercy  of  his 
barons,  even  in  money  matters.  He  has  inherited 
a  kingdom  reduced  and  weakened  by  his  father's 
misconduct, — a  kingdom  at  one  time  subjected  to 
the  Pope,  at  another  too  much  under  the  sway  of 
foreigners.  He  himself,  having  been  a  minor  at  his 
accession  remained  long  in  tutelage,  and  was  unable 
when  he  came  of  age  to  assert  any  real  indepen- 
dence. His  marriage  is  resented  as  increasing  the 
influence  of  foreigners;    all  that  he  does  is  con- 


248  Icarfg  ^j^ronlflcrjS  of  lEnglanH. 

trolled  and  sharply  criticised ;  he  is  driven  hither 
and  thither  by  varying  counsels  and  despised  by 
those  on  whose  aid  he  is  dependent.  In  this  state 
of  matters  we  can  appreciate  a  passage  like  the 
following : — 

"In  the  year  of  our  Lord  1237,  which  was  the  twentieth 
of  the  reign  of  King  Henry  the  Third,  he  held  his  court,  at 
Christmas,  at  Winchester,  whence  he  forthwith  sent  royal 
warrants  throughout  all  the  English  territories,  ordering  all 
nobles  belonging  to  the  kingdom  of  England,  namely,  arch- 
bishops, bishops,  abbots,  installed  priors,  earls  and  barons, 
all  to  assemble  without  fail  in  the  octaves  of  the  Epiphany 
at  London,  to  arrange  the  royal  business  and  matters  con- 
cerning the  whole  kingdom.  The  nobles,  on  hearing  this, 
immediately  obeyed  the  king's  summons,  and  accordingly, 
on  the  day  of  St.  Hilary,  a  countless  multitude  of  nobles, 
namely,  the  whole  community  of  the  kingdom,  came  to  Lon- 
don, and  proceeded  to  the  royal  palace  at  Westminster  to 
hear  the  king's  pleasure.  When  they  had  all  taken  their 
seats,  there  stood  up  in  the  midst  of  them  one  William  de 
Kaele,  a  clerk  and  familiar  of  the  king's,  a  discreet  man,  and 
well  skilled  in  the  laws  of  the  land,  who,  acting  as  a  sort  of 
mediator  between  the  king  and  the  nobles,  disclosed  to  them 
the  king's  pleasure  and  intentions.  *  My  lord  the  king,'  he 
said,  *  informs  you  that,  whatsoever  he  may  have  done  here- 
tofore, he  now  and  henceforth  will,  without  hesitation,  submit 
himself  to  the  advice  of  all  of  you,  as  his  faithful  and  natural 
subjects.  But  those  men  who  have  till  now,  in  the  manage- 
ment of  his  affairs,  been  in  charge  of  his  treasury,  have 
rendered  him  an  incorrect  account  of  the  moneys  received 
by  them,  and  owing  to  this  the  king  is  now  destitute  of 
money,  without  which  any  king  is  indeed  desolate  ;  he, 
therefore,  humbly  demands  assistance  from  you  in  money, 
on  the  understanding  that  the  money  which  may  be  raised 
by  your  good  will  shall  be  kept  to  be  expended  for  the 
necessary  uses  of  the  kingdom,  at  the  discretion  of  any  of 


il«att!)cto  pari^,  249 


you  elected  for  the  purpose.'  When  the  assembled  nobles 
heard  this  speech,  they  each  and  all,  not  expecting  anything 
of  this  sort,  murmured  greatly,  and — 

Alter  in  alterius  jactantes  lumina  vultus. 
[Each  hearer,  lost  in  dire  amaze. 
Turned  on  his  neighbour's  face  his  gaze.] 

And  they  said  to  one  another — 

Fuderunt  partum  montes  :  en  ridiculus  mus. 
[The  labouring  mountains  shook  the  earth, 
And  to  a  paltry  mouse  gave  birth.] 

They  then  replied  with  indignation  that  they  were  oppressed 
on  all  sides,  so  often  promising  and  paying,  now  the  twen- 
tieth, now  the  thirtieth,  and  now  the  fiftieth  part  of  their 
property,  and  they  declared  that  it  would  be  unworthy  of 
them,  and  injurious  to  them,  to  allow  a  king  so  easily  led 
away,  who  had  never  repelled  or  even  frightened  one  of  the 
enemies  of  the  kingdom,  even  the  least  of  them,  and  who 
had  never  increased  his  territories,  but  rather  lessened  them, 
and  placed  them  under  foreign  yoke,  to  extort  so  much  money 
so  often,  and  by  so  many  arguments,  from  his  natural  sub- 
jects, as  if  they  were  slaves  of  the  lowest  condition,  to  their 
injury  and  for  the  benefit  of  foreigners.  When  the  king 
heard  this,  he  wished  to  calm  the  general  discontent,  and 
promised  on  oath  that  he  would  never  again  provoke  or 
annoy  the  nobles  of  the  kingdom  by  injuring  them  in  that 
way,  provided  that  the  thirtieth  part  of  all  movable  property 
in  England  was  granted  and  paid  to  him  for  his  present  use  ; 
because  the  large  sum  of  money  which  he  had,  a  Httle  while 
before,  sent  to  the  emperor  (as  he  stated)  for  the  marriage  of 
his  sister,  and  also  what  he  had  spent  at  his  own  marriage, 
had,  in  a  great  degree,  exhausted  his  money.  To  this  they 
openly  replied,  that  he,  the  king,  had  done  all  this  without 
the  advice  of  his  liege  subjects,  and  they  ought  not  to  share 
the  punishment,  as  they  were  innocent  of  the  crime.  They, 
however,  withdrew  to  a  private  place  to  consult  about  obey- 
ing the  king's  demand,  and  supplying  his  necessities,  and  to 


450  lEarlc  (^f)xom\m  of  lEnglantl. 

discuss  the  kind  and  quantity  of  assistance  which  was  de- 
manded. As  they  were  withdrawing  for  this  purpose,  Gilbert 
Bassett  said  to  the  king,  in  the  hearing  of  all,  and  with  less 
circumspection  of  speech  than  he  ought,  *  My  lord  king,  send 
some  one  of  your  friends  to  be  present  at  the  conference  of 
your  barons.'  He  was  when  he  said  this,  sitting  on  one  side 
of  the  king,  with  only  a  few  persons  between  them  ;  and,  in 
reply  to  his  speech,  Richard  Percy,  who  had  been  at  the 
conference  of  the  nobles,  and  was,  not  without  cause,  angry 
at  it,  said,  *  What  is  it,  friend  Gilbert,  that  you  said  ?  Are 
we,  too,  foreigners,  and  are  we  not  amongst  the  number  of 
the  king's  friends?'  And  Gilbert  felt  himself  rebuked  by 
this  unpleasant  and  sudden  speech.  And  thus,  by  a  multi- 
plicity of  arguments,  the  conference  was  protracted  for  four 
days." 

At  another  time  we  find  the  king's  demand  of 
money  at  a  council  or  parliament  of  his  nobles,  so 
strenuously  resisted  that  he  has  recourse  to  craft 
to  attain  his  end  : — 

"  He  ordered  them  to  wait  till  the  following  day  to  hear 
his  wishes  concerning  this  and  other  matters  ;  and  on  the 
morrow  he  summoned  them  one  by  one,  at  different  times, 
into  his  private  chamber,  like  a  priest  summoning  penitents 
to  confession,  and,  as  he  could  not  weaken  their  determina- 
tion when  all  together,  he  cunningly  endeavoured  to  weaken 
them  one  by  one  by  his  arguments,  and  begged  pecuniary 
aid  from  them,  saying,  '  See  what  such  an  abbot  has  given 
to  aid  me,  and  what  such  another  has  given  me,'  holding  out 
at  the  same  time  a  list,  on  which  he  showed  a  written  agree- 
ment that  such  and  such  an  abbot  or  prior  had  given  so 
much,  or  had,  at  least,  promised  to  give  so  much,  although 
none  of  them  had  given  their  consent  thereto,  nor  even  knew 
anything  of  it.  By  such  false  precedents  and  ensnaring 
words,  the  king  cunningly  entrapped  a  great  many  ;  many 
others,  however,  stood  firmj  and  would  not  in  any  way  swerve 


JHattj^cto  i^arfi^,  251 


from  the  reply  they  had  agreed  on  in  common,  and  had 
sworn  to  abide  by.  To  these  the  king  angrily  said,  *  Shall  I, 
then,  be  a  perjured  man  ?  I  have  sworn  an  inviolable  oath 
that  I  would  cross  the  sea,  and,  with  extended  arm,  demand 
restitution  of  my  rights  from  the  French  king,  and  this  I 
cannot  in  any  way  effect  without  a  large  sum  of  money, 
which  your  hberahty  ought  to  supply.'" 

It  is  a  wretched  condition,  certainly,  into  which 
the  crown  of  England  has  fallen.  But  Europe  has 
fallen  into  a  wretched  condition,  too.  The  horrid 
Tartars  have  made  irruptions  as  far  as  Hungary 
and  the  shores  of  the  Baltic.  Dreadful  reports 
are  spread  abroad  of  the  Emperor  Frederick  II., 
which  Matthew  Paris  can  hardly  bring  himself  to 
believe.  It  is  said  that  he  has  been  a  long  time  in 
alliance  with  the  Saracens  ;  that  he  keeps  a  harem 
of  Saracen  women  ;  that  he  utters  blasphemies 
about  the  Eucharist,  and  speaks  of  Moses,  Jesus, 
and  Mahomet,  in  the  same  breath,  as  three  con- 
jurers who  had  bewitched  the  world.  The  crusa- 
ding spirit  has  gone  out,  and  the  Pope  now  sells 
absolution  from  crusading  vows  through  the  medium 
of  mendicant  friars.  The  experiment  is  even 
pushed  a  little  further ;  and  the  same  friars  first 
preach  remission  of  sins  to  all  who  assume  the 
cross  for  the  liberation  of  the  Holy  Land,  and  a 
few  days  after  absolve  the  very  men  whom  they 
have  prevailed  upon  to  do  so.  The  Pope  practises 
extortion,  levying  contributions  on  religious  houses 
in  England  by  much  the  same  arts  as  the  king 
employs  with  his  barons.     He  also  promises  the 


252  lEnrls  ©j^ronicto  of  lEnglanH. 

Roman  people  English  benefices  for  their  sons  and 
relatives  on  condition  of  their  aiding  him  against 
the  emperor.  Such  are  a  few  of  the  indications  of 
general  demoralisation  depicted  in  the  pages  of 
our  chronicler. 

Yet  there  is  a  real  revival  of  the  old  crusading 
spirit  under  the  king's  brother  Richard,  Earl  of 
Cornwall,  afterwards  King  of  the  Romans,  who,  in 
spite  of  a  positive  prohibition  from  the  Pope,  sails 
from  France  into  the  East,  and  is  able  to  send 
home  from  Palestine  good  news  of  his  success. 
For  he  has  made  a  treaty  with  the  Sultan  of  Egypt 
by  which  Jerusalem,  with  a  large  tract  of  territory 
besides,  is  handed  over  to  the  Christians  ;  and  the 
monks  of  St.  Alban's  remember  with  pride  that 
before  starting  on  his  expedition  he  visited  their 
monastery,  and  desired  the  benefit  of  their  prayers, 
while  the  foreign  ecclesiastics,  sent  from  Rome  to 
collect  money  in  England,  regarded  his  zeal  with 
cold  indifference.  On  his  return  he  is  received 
with  joy  by  the  emperor,  who  had  married  his 
sister.  Games  and  festivities  of  various  kinds  are 
held  in  his  honour,  among  which  displays  he  is 
particularly  attracted  by  the  performances  of  two 
handsome  Saracen  girls,  who  glided  along  the 
floor,  each  on  a  pair  of  rolling  balls.  "  They  walked 
backwards  and  forwards,"  says  the  chronicler, 
"  clapping  their  hands,  moving  at  pleasure  on  these 
revolving  globes,  gesticulating  with  their  arms,  sing- 
ing various  tunes,  and  twisting  their  bodies  accord- 
ing to   the   tune,   beating    cymbals  or    castanets 


0iAiil)tisi  ^arl^,  253 


together  with  their  hands,  and  putting  their  bodies 
into  various  amusing  postures,  affording,  with  the 
other  jugglers,  an  admirable  spectacle  to  the 
lookers-on."  The  French  king  shows  even  higher 
respect  for  the  deliverer  of  the  Holy  Land  by 
allowing  him  to  negotiate  a  truce  for  Henry  IH. 
at  a  time  when,  owing  to  the  king's  indiscretion,  the 
English  army  was  in  danger  of  being  all  taken 
prisoners.  Only  at  Rome  was  Earl  Richard  re- 
ceived with  coldness  when  he  went  thither  from 
the  emperor's  court  to  plead  the  cause  of  his 
brother-in-law. 

Of  facts  like  these  Matthew  Paris  appreciates  the 
significance,  after  the  fashion  of  a  modern  English- 
man, rather  than  a  monk.  To  us  in  the  present 
day,  who  perhaps  have  visited  the  continent  our- 
selves, and  who  are  accustomed  every  morning  to 
read  disquisitions  on  the  affairs  of  other  countries, 
as  well  as  of  our  own,  it  seems  natural  enough  to 
take  a  deep  interest  in  the  state  of  Europe  gener- 
ally. But  no  other  monk  before  the  days  of 
Matthew  Paris,  and  no  other  writer  for  a  long  time 
after  him,  shows  such  a  clear  appreciation  of  the 
intimate  connection  between  the  history  of  his  own 
country  and  that  of  other  nations.  His  foreign 
intelligence,  moreover,  is  remarkably  good.  His 
vivid  description  of  the  Tartars,  whose  irruptions 
spread  so  much  consternation  over  Europe  is 
scarcely  inferior  to  that  of  Gibbon.  "These 
people,"  he  says,  *'have  very  large  heads,  by  no 
means  proportionate  to  their  bodies,  and  feed  on 


254  lEarlj)  Qt^xoMa^  of  ISnglant). 

raw  flesh,  and  even  on  human  beings ;  they  are  in- 
comparable archers,  and  cross  any  rivers  in  portable 
boats  made  of  hides  ;  of  robust  strength  and  large 
in  their  bodies,  impious  and  inexorable  men  ;  and 
their  language  is  unknown  to  all  within  reach  of 
our  knowledge.  They  abound  in  flocks,  herds,  and 
breeds  of  horses ;  the  horses  are  very  swift,  and 
able  to  perform  a  journey  of  three  days  in  one  ; 
the  men  are  well  armed  in  front,  but  not  behind, 
that  they  may  not  take  to  flight ;  and  their  chief 
is  a  most  ferocious  man,  named  the  Khan."  In 
the  year  1238,  when  they  threatened  Gothland  and 
Friesland  we  are  told  that  the  people  of  those 
countries  did  not,  as  usual,  send  to  Yarmouth  for 
herring,  and  that  commodity  consequently  became 
a  drug  in  the  market.  One  slight  drawback,  how- 
ever, in  this  chronicle  in  point  of  literary  art  is  that 
the  writer  occasionally  repeats  himself  a  little  ;  and 
this  is  the  case  to  some  extent  in  his  account  of  the 
Tartars,  to  whose  doings  he  is  obliged  to  return 
more  than  once  in  the  course  of  his  narrative. 

Meanwhile,  amid  all  the  disorders  of  the  times, 
we  see  how  England  was  gradually  making  her  way 
towards  a  fixed  constitution.  The  king's  repeated 
applications  to  the  nobles  for  money  require  some 
check  to  be  administered.  In  1244,  they  are  con- 
voked in  council,  and  meet  in  the  refectory  of 
Westminster  Abbey,  where  the  king  in  person 
urges  the  great  expenses  he  has  incurred  in  an 
expedition  to  Gascony,  undertaken,  as  he  alleges, 
by  their  advice.     He  says  nothing  of  an  intended 


iW:att5e&)  i^art0.  255 


expedition  against  Scotland,  as  to  which,  apparently, 
their  advice  was  not  desired.     After  the  nobles  had 
left  the  refectory,  the  bishops,  abbots,  and  priors 
took  counsel  together  in   a  place  by  themselves, 
and  afterwards  asked  the  earls  and  barons  if  they 
would  agree  to  their  advice  in  giving  an  answer. 
The   latter   replied   that   they  would    do   nothing 
except  by  joint  consent  of  all.     Four  bishops,  four 
earls,    and   four   barons   were    then   appointed    as 
delegates  for  the  different  orders  of  the  peerage, 
whose  determination  was   to   be   binding   on   the 
whole  body.     It  was   accordingly  agreed    first  to 
demand  the  redemption  of  some  old  pledges,  and 
the  appointment  of  a  justiciary  and  a  chancellor,  as 
serious  abuses  had   grown   up   for   want   of  such 
officials.     The   king,   to   avoid   the   appearance  of 
acting    on   compulsion,    refused   the    petition,   but 
promised  some  amendment   of  the  matters    com- 
plained of,  and  desired  the  council  to  meet  again 
at  a  later  date.     The  nobles  then  declared  that  if 
the  king  would  elect  such  councillors  as  they  should 
approve,  and  would  permit  his  expenditure  to  be 
controlled  by  the  twelve  delegates,  they  were  will- 
ing to  grant  supplies.     The  answer  was  unaccept- 
able.    The  king  endeavoured  to  temporize,  and,  to 
win  over  the  clergy  to  his  will,  showed  a  brief  that 
he  had  procured  from   the   Pope,   not  without   a 
handsome  douceur  to  his  Holiness  in  reward  for  so 
great  a  favour,  requiring  them  to  make  a  liberal 
contribution  to  his  necessities.     When  the  bishops 
met  together  to  consider  the  Pope's  letter,  the  king 


256  1£atls  CTj^roniclcr^  of  lEnglanU. 

sent  to  them  Siman  de  Montfort,  Earl  of  Leicester 
(who  at  this  time  acted  with  him),  and  some  other 
of  his  friends,  to  urge  their  compliance  ;  after  which 
he  came  himself  to  protest  that  their  honour  was 
as  dear  to  him  as  his  own,  and  that  he  expected 
his  would  be  dear  to  them  likewise.  But  they  only- 
persisted  in  the  reply  that  they  would  consider  the 
matter ;  and  after  he  had  left  them,  Grosseteste, 
Bishop  of  Lincoln,  made  answer  to  those  who  were 
in  favour  of  concession,  "  Let  us  not  be  divided 
from  the  common  counsel ;  for  it  is  written,  if  we 
be  divided,  we  shall  all  die  forthwith." 

Matthew  Paris  did  not  live  to  record  the  result 
of  this  long  struggle  between  the  king  and  his 
barons,  which,  it  is  well  known,  culminated  in  civil 
war  some  years  later.  It  seems  a  little  uncertain 
when  he  laid  down  the  pen.  The  history  which  he 
began  was  continued  by  other  hands  to  the  death 
of  Henry  III.,  and  there  is  no  satisfactory  evidence 
of  the  place  at  which  a  change  of  authorship  first 
took  place.  We  only  know  that  it  could  not  have 
been  later  than  the  year  1259.  Matthew's  own 
original  intention  had  been  to  stop  at  the  end  of 
1250,  the  year  of  Jubilee,  where  he  distinctly  winds 
up  the  narrative  with  a  few  Latin  rhymes,  intimat- 
ing that  the  time  required  rest,  and  that  he  will 
not  inquire  what  things  the  coming  age  may  bring 
forth.  It  is  absolutely  certain,  however,  that  he 
resumed  his  functions  of  historiographer,  and  con- 
liiuied  the  work  to  at  least  as  late  a  date  as  the 
year  1259,  as  in  this  portion  of  the  narrative  he 


iWattJefo  ^axia.  257 


twice  speaks  of  himself  by  name ;  nor  is  there  any- 
very  perceptible  change  of  style  till  we  reach  the 
year  1259.  But,  to  judge  from  internal  evidence, 
the  work  at  that  date  must  have  been  for  some, 
time  discontinued,  and  when  it  was  resumed  by 
another  pen,  the  inmates  of  the  monastery  must 
have  forgotten  how  far  Matthew  Paris  had  pro- 
ceeded with  it  before  his  death.  For  in  the  year 
above  mentioned,  we  meet  with  a  remarkable 
rubric  which,  though  it  might  read  as  if  it  had 
been  inserted  by  a  still  later  transcriber,  is  in  all 
probability  the  work  of  the  continuator  himself, 
written  in  a  spirit  of  humility  as  the  preface  to  his 
own  labours.  "  It  is  to  be  understood,"  says  the 
note  in  question,  "  that  thus  far  the  venerable  man, 
brother  Matthew  of  Paris,  is  the  writer,  and  though 
the  handwriting  may  vary,  yet,  as  the  same  style 
of  composition  is  preserved  throughout,  the  whole 
is  ascribed  to  him.  But  what  is  hereafter  added  is 
to  be  attributed  to  another  brother,  who,  presuming 
to  take  in  hand  hereafter  unworthily  to  continue 
the  work  of  so  great  a  predecessor,  although  he 
was  not  worthy  to  unloose  the  latchet  of  his  shoe, 
has  not  deserved  to  have  his  name  inscribed  upon 
the  page." 

The  writer's  name,  however,  is  generally  believed 
to  have  been  William  Rishanger,  who  was  also  the 
author  of  an  independent  chronicle  of  the  war  be- 
tween Henry  III.  and  his  barons.  This  opinion 
has  not  passed  altogether  without  question ;  for 
although  it  is  admitted  on  all  hands  that  William 

ENG.  S 


258  lEarlg  Qt\)xomt\txii  of  lEn^lanl^. 

Rishanger  was  one  of  the  long  line  of  writers  who 
continued  the  Sf.  A /dan's  Chronicles,  there  is  no 
very  distinct  evidence  that  he  was  the  immediate 
successor  of  Matthew  Paris.  We  have  a  memoran- 
dum written  by  himself,  in  which  he  calls  himself 
"  Cronigraphus,"  or  a  writer  of  chronicles,  very 
precisely  dated  on  the  day  of  the  Invention 
of  the  Holy  Cross,  A.D.  13 12,  the  fifth  year  of  King 
Edward  II. ;  and  at  that  date  he  says  that  he  had 
been  forty-one  years  a  monk,  and  was  sixty-two 
years  old.  It  follows  that  he  was  born  in  the  year 
1250  ;  and  if  he  was  the  first  monk  of  St.  Alban's 
who  took  up  the  pen  where  Matthew  Paris  left  off, 
the  writing  of  chronicles  in  that  house  must  cer- 
tainly have  been  for  a  long  time  discontinued.  Yet 
it  is  not  at  all  incredible  that  Rishanger  had  to  go 
back  to  a  time  when  he  was  only  nine  years  of 
age.  A  period  of  civil  war  had  intervened,  which 
spread  alarm  even  within  the  seclusion  of  St.  Alban's 
Abbey  ;  and,  as  we  have  seen,  the  rubric  of  the 
anonymous  continuator  (whoever  he  may  have 
been)  greatly  favours  the  supposition  that  the 
writing  of  chronicles  had  been  suspended  for  a  very 
considerable  time. 

Moreover,  it  is  certain,  from  the  separate  treatise 
written  by  Rishanger  on  the  war  between  Henry 
III.  and  his  barons,  which  bears  his  name  at  the 
commencement,  that  he  actually  had  bestowed  a 
good  deal  of  thought  and  study  on  the  history  of 
the  very  momentous  events  which  had  taken  place 
in  England  in  his  youth.     And  it  is  rather  strongly 


I^fe^angcr*^  €f)ron{cIe,  259 


suggested,  by  the  language  he  uses  at  the  com- 
mencement, that  the  work  of  writing  annals  and 
investigating  historical  facts  had  fallen  a  good  deal 
into  disrepute  in  his  day.  So  that  from  this  cir- 
cumstance also  we  may  quite  well  believe  that  the 
task  of  continuing  the  chronicle  of  Matthew  Paris 
had  been  left  till  his  time  in  abeyance.  The  fol- 
lowing are  the  words  with  which  he  introduces  the 
subject  of  this  treatise  : — 

"It  has  grown  a  custom,  not  to  be  commended,  with  very 
many  who  care  little  about  written  chronicles,  to  despise 
books  of  history,  and  acts  of  princes,  and,  treating  those  who 
study  them  with  derision,  they  regard  them  all  as  frivolities 
and  falsehoods.  For  whom  it  is  expedient  to  incline  their 
ears,  not  without  shame,  to  wholesome  admonition,  that  they 
may  take  care  to  put  a  check  upon  their  scurrility,  lest,  if  by 
chance  they  censure  too  severely  the  simplicity  of  others,  un- 
mindful of  their  own  frailty,  they  be  found  guilty  of  denying 
what  is  true,  especially  when  we  see  such  things  declared  to 
the  knowledge  of  many  persons  by  holy  and  catholic  men. 
And  if  any  one  refuses  to  submit  to  this  admonition,  of  what 
great  rebuke  is  he  deserving  !  Let  him  hear  what  is  written : — 
'  Whatever  is  most  wholesome,  whatever  commends  thee  most 
to  God,  and  excites  thee  to  greatest  devotion,  meditate  the 
same,  and  put  it  in  practice,  and  study  always  to  follow  and 
embrace  it.'  For  that  meditation  is  blessed  which  is  followed 
by  fruitful  contrition  of  heart,  directing  the  mind's  eye  to  the 
light  of  celestial  contemplation  ;  which  commonly  takes  place 
when  it  is  remembered  how  all  the  nobility  and  power  of 
mortals  passes  away  with  a  momentary  vanity.  For  it 
happens  not  unfrequcntly  that  from  the  remembrance  of 
those  who  have  gone  before,  the  mind  of  a  reader  is  kindled 
with  the  love  of  the  heavenly  country.  Since,  therefore,  some 
of  our  contemporaries  who  have  devoted  much  attention  to 


26o  lEatlg  ©j^tonlclctjj  of  lEnglanU. 

the  investigation  of  past  events  are  also  strengthened  in  their 
difficulties  when  they  consider  how  ancient  fathers,  like  gold 
tried  by  the  fire,  after  being  proved  by  various  persecutions, 
have  happily  passed  away  hence  to  the  joy  above,  we,  be- 
lieving that  our  successors  are  detained  meanwhile  with  like 
employment,  have  thought  good  to  put  in  writing  those  won- 
derful and  displeasing  events  which  God  has  permitted  to  be 
stirred  up  in  our  time  for  the  chastisement  of  the  English 
nation,  the  sins  of  the  people  deserving  it  ;  so  that,  consider- 
ing how  we,  with  our  troubles  and  our  joys  alike,  have  passed 
away  like  a  shadow,  they  may  not  only  fear  the  less  those 
evils  which  before  the  consummation  of  this  age  will  come 
upon  the  whole  world,  according  to  the  Gospel  promise,  but 
even  rise  to  meet  them  joyfully,  strengthened  by  the  patience 
of  God." 

This  chronicle,  then,  was  written  a  generation 
later  than  the  events  that  it  records.  The  writer, 
who  became  a  monk  of  St.  Alban's  in  the  year 
1 27 1,  could  not  certainly  have  become  the  official 
chronicler  of  the  abbey  till  many  years  later,  though 
it  is  possible  that  he  was  admitted  to  that  office 
some  time  before  13 12,  the  year  in  which  he  ex- 
pressly styles  himself  "  Cronigraphus."  The  chro- 
nicle is,  therefore,  the  work  of  an  old,  or,  at  least, 
middle-aged  man,  relating  for  the  benefit  of  poste- 
rity the  story  of  what  had  happened  in  England  in 
the  days  of  his  own  youth.  It  is,  in  fact,  the  most 
full  and  complete  account  of  those  events  which 
we  possess,  or  rather,  would  have  been,  if  it  had 
come  down  to  us  entire ;  but  it  is  fragmentary 
towards  the  close,  and,  by  some  gross  confusion  on 
the  part  of  the  scribe  (for  only  one  manuscript  of 
the  work  has  come  down  to  us),  the  matter  has 


Kigjbangetr*^  CTj^rorrfcle.  25 r 


been  copied  in  some  places  in  a  wrong  order.  Still, 
the  story  is  told  with  not  a  little  zest,  and  with 
great  sympathy  for  the  popular  hero,  Simon  de 
Montfort,  of  whom  the  author  gives  us  a  very  high 
character.  In  the  course  of  the  narrative,  some 
Latin  rhymes  are  quoted,  which,  as  an  expres- 
sion of  the  popular  feeling  on  the  struggle  then 
going  on,  I  have  endeavoured  to  translate  into 
English  verse,  of  somewhat  the  same  character,  as 
follows : — ■ 

"  0  mourn  and  weep,  sad  England,  for,  full  of  heavy  woe, 
Thou  but  beholdest  miseries  which  daily  bring  thee  low. 
If  Christ  do  not  regard  thee  now,  as  He  is  wont  to  do. 
Thy  name  will  be  a  mockery  to  every  haughty  foe. 

"  Full  many  a  pledge  thy  sons  have  given  to  keep  thee  safe 

and  free. 
But  now  too  little  they  regard  the  word  they  swore  to  thee  ; 
For  some  who  well  could  aid  thee  reck  not  what  thy 

dangers  be, 
And  some  evade  their  promise  and  escape  beyond  the  sea. 

*'  Hence  others  have  begun  to  raise  contention  in  the  land. 
And  those  take  sides  who  ought  to  join  together,  hand  in 

hand  ; 
Nor  seek  they  peace  and  concord,  but  against  each  other 

band  ; 
But  how  to  end  the  things  begun  they  cannot  understand. 

"  So  languishes  our  common  weal,  the  land  is  desolate. 
And  foreigners  grow  mighty  on  the  ruin  of  our  state. 
Our  native  Englishmen  are  scorned  as  men  of  low  estate. 
And  still    must  bear    with   injuries  that  no  tongue  dare 
relate. 


762  lEarlg  C^toniclcrjJ  of  lEnglanlr. 

"  The  soldier  and  the  churchman  both  are  dumb  as  any  stone  ; 
The  right  of  speaking  freely  is  for  foreigners  alone. 
Not  two  among  a  hundred  of  us  English  hold  our  own, 
And  all  that  we  attain  is  grief  and  shame  and  bitter  moan. 

"  O  Gloucester's  Earl,  it  is  for  thee  the  noble  work  to  achieve 
Which  was  thine  own  beginning ;   else  thou  many  shalt 

deceive. 
Go,  manfully  redeem  thy  pledge,  and  let  us  still  believe 
The  cause  which  took  its  source  from  thee  shall  strong 

support  receive. 

"  Or  if  (which  God  forbid  !)  thy  hand,  thou  seek  now  to  with- 
draw, 
•    A  traitor  to  thy  own  loved  land  as  never  England  saw,* 
*  •  •  *  * 

"  Earl  Simon,  too,  of  Montfort,  thou  powerful  man  and  brave. 
Bring  up  thy  strong  battalions  thy  country  now  to  save. 
Be  not  dismayed  by  menaces  or  terror  of  the  grave. 
Defend  with  might  the  public  cause  ;  naught  else  thine  own 
needs  crave. 

**  And  thou,  Earl  Bigod,  keep  thy  word,  and  lend  a  helping 
hand, 
As  thou  a  doughty  soldier  art,  well  fitted  to  command. 
*Tis  but  a  petty  rout  of  dogs  in  turmoil  keeps  the  land. 
Drive  out  or  quell  the  cursed  race  with  thy  victorious  band. 

"  Great  nobles  who  have  pledged  your  faith,  as  ye  are  English 

lords, 
Keep   firmly  to  your  plighted  troth,  defend  it  with  your 

swords. 
If  aught  the  land  may  profit  by  your  counsels  and  accords, 
Let  that  be  done  and  quickly  which  ye  have  ordained  in 

words. 

*  The  third  line  of  this  stanza  is  lost,  having  been  omitted  by 
the  transcriber,  so  that  it  is  impossible  to  complete  it  in  translation. 


"  If  that  which  ye  have  now  begun  ye  steadfastly  maintain, 
The  object  ye  so  much  desire  ye  surely  may  obtain. 
Of  long  deliberation  unless  an  end  ye  gain, 
It  truly  may  be  said  of  you,  your  labour  was  in  vain. 

"  To  you  the  highest  honour  will  redound,  when  all  his  o'er,  ' 
If,  bearing  your  devices,  England  freely    breathe    once 

moic. 
And  may  God  Almighty's  mercy  from  the  plague  she  suffers 

sore 
Soon  redeem  our  wretched  country,  and  sweet  peace  to  her 

restore." 

There  is  certainly  much  in  common  between  this 
undoubted  chronicle  of  Rishanger  and  the  con- 
tinuation of  Matthew  Paris  during  the  same  period, 
though  the  order  in  which  the  subjects  are  treated 
is  a  little  different.  At  the  same  time,  each  has 
some  things  which  the  other  leaves  out.  And,  to 
refer  now  to  the  continuation,  we  may  quote  an 
incident  related  just  after  the  account  of  the  battle 
of  Lewes,  which,  as  being  in  itself  of  mere  local 
interest,  may,  perhaps,  enable  us  to  realize  to  our 
imaginations  the  effect  of  these  miserable  dissen- 
sions over  the  whole  of  England  : — 

"At  this  time,  the  town  of  St.  Alban's  was  so  carefully 
fortified,  and  the  gates  were  so  strongly  secured  with  locks 
and  bolts  for  fear  of  war,  that  all  access  was  denied  to  those 
who  wished  to  pass  through  it,  especially  mounted  horsemen. 
At  that  time  Gregory  de  Stoke,  Constable  of  Hertford,  piqued 
at  the  spirit  displayed  by  the  people  of  St.  Alban's,  boasted 
that  he  would  enter  the  town  with  three  attendants,  notwith- 
standing the  bolts  and  bars,  and  would  seize  and  carry  off 
with  him  to  Hertford  four  of  the  better  class  of  townsmen. 
To  carry  out  his  purpose  he  entered  the  town  and  made 


264  lEarlg  Cuj&ronkler^  of  1E«gIant). 

foolish  excursions  everywhere,  looking  about  now  this  way 
now  that,  as  if  he  was  going  to  perpetrate  some  great  thing. 
At  length  he  said  to  the  lads  accompanying  him,  *  You  see 
how  the  wind  stands  ?  '  Presently  a  certain  butcher,  thinking 
he  meant  to  burn  the  town,  said,  *  I  will  teach  you  how  the 
wind  stands,'  and  gave  him  a  blow  on  the  face  with  such 
violence  that  he  fell  at  his  feet  upon  the  ground.  The  people 
then  seized  him  and  his  lads  and  bound  them  with  iron  rings 
and  fetters  ;  and  in  the  morning  their  heads  were  cut  off  by 
the  butchers,  and  were  fixed  upon  long  stakes  and  placed  at 
the  four  ends  of  the  town.  But  the  king,  when  he  heard  of 
it,  fined  the  town  a  hundred  marks,  which  was  immediately 
paid." 

Whether  we  are  right  or  wrong  in  our  conjecture 
that  the  work  of  Matthew  Paris  was  only  continued 
by  Rislianger  after  a  long  interval,  it  is  certain,  at 
least,  that  Rishanger  and  succeeding  writers  made 
the  narrative  complete,  and  carried  it  on  without 
a  break-down  to  the  death  of  Henry  V.  on  the 
same  plan.  Through  the  whole  of  that  period  the 
fullest  original  account  we  possess  of  all  that  took 
place  in  England  is  to  be  found  in  the  series  of  the 
St.  Alban's  Chronicles  :  and  even  if  not  in  all  parts 
written  at  the  date  of  the  events  themselves,  it  is 
in  the  form  of  annals  such  as  those  which  Matthew 
Paris,  there  can  be  little  doubt,  wrote  down  while 
the  news  of  all  that  occurred  was  fresh  in  the 
mouths  of  every  one.  At  the  end  of  each  year, 
also,  these  writers  systematically  gave  an  account 
of  its  meteorological  and  other  characteristics, 
showing  whether  it  had  been  a  good  year,  or  the 
reverse,  for  corn   and  fruits ;    whether  there   had 


^r(i)et*?{  ^f^xoxdcU  l^orrofoeti,  265 

been  violent  storms,  floods,  or  famines,  and  whether 
there  had  been  any  other  special  causes  affecting 
the  general  happiness  of  the  people.  During  the 
whole  period,  from  the  reign  of  Henry  III.  to  that 
of  Henry  V.,  such  an  annual  register  will  be  found 
in  the  5/.  Albaii's  Chronicles, 

How  far  Rishanger's  contribution  to  this  series 
was  an  original  composition,  it  is  difficult  to  say  ; 
for  during  the  whole  reign  of  Edward  I.,  in  which 
we  might  expect  him  to  take  his  place  as  a  con- 
temporary writer,  the  account  of  events  in  the  St. 
Albans  Chronicles  seems  to  be  borrowed,  almost 
word  for  word,  with  the  exception  of  the  meteoro- 
logical register  just  referred  to,  from  the  chronicle 
of  the  Dominican  Friar,  Nicholas  Trivet,  of  which 
we  made  some  mention  in  the  last  chapter.  In 
one  place,  indeed,  where  the  St.  Alban's  writer 
abridges  the  catalogue  of  the  works  of  Thomas 
Aquinas,  given  by  Trivet,  he  expressly  refers  to 
that  writer's  chronicle  by  name.  So  that  there 
seems  very  little  doubt  that  it  is  the  St.  Alban's 
writer  who  has  borrowed  all  along  from  Trivet,  not 
Trivet  from  the  St.  Alban's  writer.  We  will  there- 
fore take  the  opportunity  in  this  place  of  giving 
the  reader  a  specimen  of  the  style  of  the  pains- 
taking and  accurate  Dominican,  which  we  refrained 
from  doing  before  to  avoid  chronological  confusion. 
The  following  is  Trivet's  personal  description  of 
King  Edward : — 

"  Edward,  King  of  the  English,  the  eldestborn  of  Henry  III. 
by  Eleanor,  daughter  of  the  Count  of  Provence,  had  completed 


266  ^carlg  ©j^ronkUr^  of  ^nglant>. 

thirty-three  years  and  five  months  of  his  age  on  the  day  he 
was  about  to  succeed  *  his  deceased  father  in  the  kingdom. 
He  was  a  man  of  proved  foresight  in  the  conduct  of  affairs, 
devoted  to  the  exercise  of  arms  from  his  boyhood,  by  which 
he  acquired  for  himself  in  divers  regions  that  fame  in  which 
he  singularly  outshone  the  princes  of  all  the  Christian  world 
in  his  day.  He  was  of  handsome  figure,  of  majestic  stature, 
in  which  he  overtopped  ordinary  people  from  the  shoulder 
upwards.  His  hair  in  boyhood,  from  a  colour  almost  silvery, 
bordering  upon  yellow,  but  in  youth  changing  to  black,  adorned 
his  old  age  with  locks  of  a  swan-like  whiteness.  His  forehead 
was  broad,  and  the  rest  of  his  face  likewise,  except  that  the 
drooping  eyelid  of  his  left  eye  betrayed  a  resemblance  to  his 
fathci-'s  glance.  With  a  stammering  tongue  he  yet  had  no 
lack  of  eloquence  to  persuade  when  there  was  any  occasion 
for  oratory.  In  proportion  to  his  body  his  arms  were  long 
and  supple  ;  there  were  no  arms  to  match  them  for  nervous 
vigour  and  skill  in  sword  fence.  His  breast  was  more 
prominent  than  his  belly,  and  the  length  of  his  thighs  when 
his  charger  reared  and  galloped,  prevented  the  rider  from 
ever  losing  his  seat. 

When  not  engaged  in  warfare  he  indulged  both  in  hunting 
and  fowling,  but  especially  in  the  hunting  of  stags,  which  he 
was  wont  to  pursue  with  swift  horses,  and  to  transfix  when 
taken,  with  a  sword  instead  of  a  hunting-spear.  That  he 
lived  under  the  special  protection  of  the  Most  High  God 
might  be  very  well  known,  not  merely  because  when  a  youth 
engaged  at  chess  with  a  certain  knight  in  a  chamber  with 
a  vaulted  roof,  he  suddenly  rose  and  departed  in  the  middle 
of  the  game  without  any  occasion  being  ofiered,  and  a  stone 
of  enormous  size,  which  would  have  crushed  him,  fell  in  the 
very  place  where  he  had  been  sitting  ;  but  also  from  the 
fortunate  issue  of  various  other  dangers  which  he  frequently 

•  It  must  be  remembered  that  the  legal  maxim,  **  The  king  never 
dies  "  did  not  hold  good  in  those  days.  The  successor  of  a  deceased 
king  was  not  accounted  as  actually  king  till  he  was  crowned. 


^ribet*j5  ©^toniclc  l^orrofcrti.  267 

incurred,  as  the  studious  reader  may  note  later  on  in  our 
narrative.  There  was  in  him  a  noble  spirit,  impatient  of 
injuries  and  forgetful  of  dangers  while  he  sought  for  vengeance, 
yet  capable  of  being  easily  softened  by  a  show  of  humility. 
For  once,  while  engaged  in  hawking  near  a  river,  he  chid 
one  of  his  attendants  on  the  other  side  of  the  stream  for 
having  carelessly  allowed  a  falcon  to  fly  at  a  duck  among 
some  willows  ;  and  on  finding,  as  it  seemed,  no  attention 
paid  to  his  rebuke,  he  added  threats.  The  other,  perceiving 
that  there  was  neither  bridge  nor  ford  near  at  hand,  repHed 
promptly  it  was  enough  for  him  that  the  river  divided  them 
from  each  other  ;  on  which  the  king's  son,  enraged,  pkmged 
into  the  water  without  knowing  its  depth,  and  swimming  his 
horse,  crossed  the  stream.  Then  ascending  with  difficulty  a 
bank,  made  hollow  by  the  course  of  the  river's  channel,  he 
drew  his  sword  and  pursued  the  other,  who,  having  now 
mounted  his  horse,  was  flying  before  him  ;  but,  despairing 
of  escape,  turned  back,  and,  with  bared  head,  put  forth  his 
neck  and  submitted  himself  to  Edward's  will.  On  this  the 
king's  son,  checked  in  his  fury,  replaced  his  sword  in  the 
scabbard,  and  they  both  returned  in  peace  to  see  to  the 
neglected  falcon." 

After  Rishanger  the  St.  Alban's  Chronicles  were 
continued  by  two  writers,  named  John  de  Trokelowe 
and  Henry  de  Blaneforde,  down  to  the  middle  of  the 
reign  of  Edward  II.  In  that  of  Edward  HI.  there  is 
not  much  evidence  of  the  work  having  been  carried 
on  by  any  contemporary  pen  within  the  walls  of  the 
abbey.  But  Thomas  Walsingham,  who  was  pre- 
centor and  "  scriptorarius,"  or  principal  scribe,  at 
St.  Alban's  in  the  reign  of  Richard  II.,  recast  the 
work  of  Trokelowe  and  Blaneforde,  with  seme 
additions  from  other  sources,  and  carried  it  down 
to  his  own  times.     This  fact  is  certain ;  but  how 


e68  lEarls  ©^romclcr^s  of  iEnglitiD. 

far  he  carried  it  down  in  his  own  time  is  another 
question.  We  know  that  he  lived  till  at  least  very 
near  the  end  of  Henry  V.'s  reign,  and  that  he  dedi- 
cated to  that  king,  after  the  conquest  of  Normandy, 
a  work  of  very  similar  character  to  his  English 
history  which  he  called  Ypodigma  Neiistrice.  More- 
over, the  English  History  itself,  which  goes  by  his 
name,  comes  down  all  the  way  to  the  death  of 
Henry  V.,  in  1422,  and  a  considerable  portion  of 
the  later  narrative,  as  far  as  the  year  14 19,  is  word 
for  word  the  same  as  in  the  Ypodigma.  Yet  Mr. 
Riley,  Walsingham*s  most  recent  editor,  has, 
strangely  enough,  found  reasons  for  thinking  that 
the  English  History  is  not  really  Walsingham's 
own  composition  after  the  year  1392  ;  and  that, 
although  he  was  an  original  writer  in  the  time 
of  Richard  II.,  he  adopted  as  his  own  in  the 
Ypodigma  the  work  of  some  one  else  who  had 
written  a  history  of  current  events  in  the  two 
succeeding  reigns. 

This  is  not  the  place  for  controversy,  but  I  must 
simply  say  that  the  evidences  adduced  for  this 
extraordinary  opinion  seem  to  me  singularly  weak. 
It  is  quite  true  that  one  manuscript  of  the  history 
terminates  in  the  year  1392,  and  that  after  that 
date  the  narrative  is  for  some  years  less  full  ana 
satisfactory.  But  a  sufficient  explanation  of  this 
may,  I  think,  be  found  in  the  personal  history  of 
the  author,  who  was  removed  from  the  monastery 
of  St.  Alban's  in  1394,  and  made  prior  of  Wymond- 
ham  in  Norfolk.     In  1400  he  ceased  to  be  prior  of 


tlTj^omag  SSaralgmgj^am.  269 

Wymondham,  and  in  all  probability  returned  to 
St.  Alban's,  where  he  would  naturally  resume 
those  literary  labours  which  had  been  interrupted 
by  other  duties  elsewhere.  Nor  is  there  anything 
that  I  can  see  of  the  nature  of  internal  evidence 
to  create  a  doubt  that  the  writer  of  the  history 
during  the  reigns  of  Henry  IV.  and  Henry  V.  is 
the  same  as  the  writer  of  the  history  in  Richard 
n.'s  time.  On  the  contrary,  the  style  is  the  same 
throughout. 

Walsingham  is  stated  by  all  writers  to  have  been 
a  native  of  the  county  of  Norfolk ;  and  his  name, 
in  that  case,  probably  indicates  the  exact  place  of 
his  birth — Thomas  of  Walsingham.  He  appears 
to  have  been  educated  at  Oxford,  and,  in  speaking 
of  Wycliffe,  laments  sadly  the  favour  shown  to 
heresy  by  his  Alma  Mater.  "  How  greatly,"  he 
says,  "  the  modern  proctors  or  rulers  of  that  univer- 
sity have  degenerated  from  the  prudence  or  wisdom 
of  their  predecessors  may  be  easily  conjectured 
from  this — that,  on  hearing  of  the  cause  of  the 
coming  of  the  said  papal  nuncio "  (meaning  one 
who  had  brought  a  bull  of  Gregory  XI.  against 
Wycliffe),  "they  were,  for  a  long  time,  undecided 
whether  they  ought  to  receive  the  papal  bull  with 
honour,  or  altogether  reject  it  with  disgrace.  Oh, 
general  study  of  Oxford,  with  what  a  heavy  lapse 
thou  hast  fallen  from  the  summit  of  wisdom  and 
learning  !  For,  whereas  thou  wast  formerly  wont  to 
unravel  the  doubts  and  perplexities  of  the  whole 
world,  now,  darkened  by  a  cloud  of  ignorance,  thou 


270  ^arTjj  €|btontclcr0  of  lEnglanD. 

(lost  not  fear  to  doubt  the  things  which  it  does 
not  become  any  one  to  doubt,  even  among  lay- 
Christians.  I  am  ashamed  to  remember  such  im- 
prudence, and  therefore  avoid  dwelling  on  this 
subject,  lest  I  may  seem  to  wound  with  my  teeth 
those  maternal  breasts  which  used  to  give  milk, 
and  nourish  with  the  beverage  of  knowledge." 

Walsingham  is  a  very  important  writer.  It  is 
from  him,  although  a  hostile  critic,  that  we  learn  a 
great  part  of  what  we  know  about  Wycliffe.  From 
him,  too,  comes  most  of  our  information  about  Wat 
Tyler's  insurrection,  about  the  Wonderful  Parlia- 
ment, and  generally  speaking  about  the  reigns  of 
Richard  II.,  and  of  the  Fourth  and  Fifth  Henry. 
In  connection  with  the  subject  of  Wat  Tyler's  in- 
surrection, he  gives  us  a  pretty  complete  account  of 
the  preaching  of  one  whom  he  very  unjustly  regards 
as  Wycliffe's  true  disciple — the  incendiary  priest, 
John  Balle,  who  addressed  the  multitude  at  Black- 
heath  on  the  well-known  theme  : — 

"  Whan  Adam  dalf  and  Ev^  span 
Wo  was  thanne  a  gentilmxin  ? " 

Although  the  terror  inspired  by  Tyler's  insurrec- 
tion was  greatest  in  the  metropolis,  the  monastery 
of  St.  Alban's  had  no  small  share  in  the  alarm. 
The  townsmen,  tenants  of  the  abbey  in  villenage, 
went  up  to  London  to  join  the  revolt,  and  consult 
with  their  fellow-bondmen  and  Wat  Tyler  himself 
how  to  free  themselves  from  all  the  restrictions 
imposed  by  their  special  tenure.     They  returned,, 


©Joma^  2Hal0mgf)ant.  271 

threatening  to  set  fire  to  the  abbey  if  their  demands 
were  not  conceded,  and  the  prior  and  four  of  the 
monks  whom  they  specially  denounced  fled  for 
their  lives  to  their  northern  cell  at  Tynemouth. 
The  abbey  was  besieged  by  an  army  of  serfs, 
clamouring  for  the  surrender  of  certain  ancient 
charters  which  they  had  been  taught  to  believe 
ought  to  have  freed  them  long  ago  from  bondage. 
Nothing  of  the  kind  existed,  but  the  abbot  was 
obliged  to  concede  to  them  whatever  charters  they 
demanded.  They  burst  into  the  abbot's  parlour 
and  carried  away  some  millstones  which  had  been 
placed  as  a  pavement  at  the  door  in  memory  of  an 
ancient  law-suit  gained  by  the  abbey  against  the 
town.  They  broke  these  stones  into  fragments,  and 
gave  each  man  a  piece,  "as  blessed  bread  on  Sundays 
is  divided  and  given  in  parish  churches,"  says  our 
historian.  Thus,  every  one  was  able  to  preserve 
a  memorial  that  they  had  taken  vengeance  in  that 
matter  on  the  monastery.  But  these  things  are  as 
nothing  to  what  is  recorded  of  the  wild  doings  in 
London ;  how  the  mob  broke  into  the  Tower  and 
beheaded  the  Archbishop  of  Canterbury  and  the 
lord  treasurer,  and  every  one  who  did  not  promise 
to  join  their  party.  "  I  have  learned  from  a  trust- 
worthy reporter,"  says  Walsingham,  "  that  thirteen 
Flemings  were  violently  dragged  out  of  the  church 
of  the  Austin  Friars  in  London,  and  beheaded  in 
the  public  streets  ;  and  from  another  parish  church 
in  the  same  city  seventeen  ;  all  of  whom,  without 
reverence  of  sanctuary  or  fear  of  God  (for  at  the 


272  lEarlg  Q^f)xon\clm  of  lEnglanU. 

time  that  accursed  crowd  had  no  respect  for  man), 
were  murdered  by  the  same  process  of  decapita- 
tion." Altogether,  the  picture  drawn  of  this  one 
great  socialistic  movement  of  the  Middle  Ages  is 
truly  most  appalling.  Nothing  more  horrible,  it 
may  be  safely  said,  has  ever  taken  place  on  Eng- 
lish ground. 

In  the  later  portion  of  Walsingham's  chronicle, 
the  principal  subject  of  interest  is  of  course  the 
story  of  Henry  V.'s  campaigns  in  France.  But  the 
narrative  is  more  remarkable  for  fullness  of  infor- 
mation than  for  liveliness  or  vigour  of  description. 
For  it  must  be  owned  Walsingham  had  very  little 
of  the  graphic  power  of  his  great  predecessor, 
Matthew  Paris,  though  he  framed  his  work  on  the 
same  model ;  nor  does  he  group  his  facts  together 
in  such  a  masterly  way.  It  is  hardly  fair,  however, 
to  expect  military  ardour  in  a  monk.  Though  he 
followed  Henry's  progress  in  France  with  that 
interest  which  it  could  not  fail  to  excite  in  every 
Englishman,  there  were  subjects  at  home,  such 
as  Oldcastle  and  the  Lollards,  on  which  he  dis- 
plays a  still  greater  amount  of  feeling  ;  and  without 
sympathising  with  what  he  says  on  these  matters 
we  feel  that  his  account  of  them  is  even  more  sig- 
nificant than  any  description  of  military  achieve- 
ments could  be.  For  they  tell  us  what  was  passing 
in  the  very  hearts  of  men,  not  merely  what  they 
were  doing  in  the  world. 

With  Walsingham  the  regular  sequence  of  chron- 
icles in  continuation  of  Matthew  Paris  comes  to  an 


Wi}t^am^Ut}t*^  ^cg{0ter,  273 

end.  For  about  thirty  years  after  the  death  of 
Henry  V.  no  record  of  the  events  of  English  history 
seems  to  have  been  kept  at  St.  Alban's,  or,  if  kept, 
has  been  preserved.  But  in  the  year  145 1,  John 
Whethamstede,  who  had  already  been  abbot  of  St. 
Alban's  once  before  and  resigned  the  dignity,  was 
again  elected  abbot,  and  one  of  his  first  acts  seems 
to  have  been  to  institute  a  register  of  the  things 
done  under  his  second  prelacy.  This  register,  when 
it  was  commenced,  had  probably  no  other  object 
than  to  record  transactions  relating  to  the  affairs  of 
the  abbey ;  but  it  was  not  long  before  political 
events  of  the  highest  magnitude  were  related  along 
with  them.  For  in  the  year  1455  the  fires  of  civil 
war,  which  had  long  been  smouldering,  at  length 
burst  into  a  flame,  and  the  first  battle  between  the 
Red  Rose  and  the  White  was  fought  in  the  streets 
of  St.  Alban's  under  the  very  walls,  one  might  say, 
of  the  monastery.  This  fact  leads  the  writer  to  a 
review  of  the  causes  of  the  war,  and  from  that  date 
to  the  close  of  the  register  in  1461,  after  the  battle 
of  Towton  and  the  attainder  of  the  Lancastrians 
under  Edward  IV.,  there  are  a  number  of  very 
valuable  notices  of  the  events  of  that  troubled 
period. 

The  age  of  monastic  chronicles  had  now  really 
passed  away.  Only  one  composition  of  the  kind — 
the  Chro7ticle  of  Croyla7id  with  its  four  continua- 
tions— went  beyond  the  history  of  Walsingham 
and  dragged  on  a  fitful  existence  to  the  accession 
of  King  Henry  VH.     That,  too,  is  an  important 

ENG.  T 


274  lEflrlg  CTj^ronicler^  of  lEnglanD. 

source  of  history,  but  mainly  for  the  times  of 
Edward  IV.  and  Richard  III.  To  whatever  cause 
we  may  attribute  the  fact — relaxation  of  discipline, 
the  growth  of  commerce,  or  the  use  of  other  agen- 
cies— monasticism  had  even  now  lost  considerably  its 
hold  upon  the  world.  Amid  the  political  confusions 
of  the  times  the  writing  of  current  history  seems 
to  have  been  forgotten.  One  part  of  England, 
very  probably,  knew  little  of  what  was  doing  some- 
where else,  and  there  were  no  longer  monkish 
scribes  in  direct  communication  with  the  court, 
who  could  not  only  collect  but  weigh  the  value 
of  intelligence  from  every  quarter  of  the  world. 
Moreover,  as  to  the  history  of  past  times,  one  very 
celebrated  chronicle  of  which  we  have  yet  to  speak 
had  so  completely  superseded  all  former  efforts  of 
the  kind  that  it  seemed  utterly  unnecessary  to  do 
more  in  this  respect  than  multiply  copies  of  the 
Polychronicon. 

This  was  the  work  of  Ralph  Higden,  a  monk  in 
the  wealthy  abbey  of  St.  Werburgh,  Chester,  who, 
in  the  reign  of  Edward  III.,  formed  a  grander  design 
of  a  universal  history  than  the  world  had  yet  seen 
realised.  The  library  of  St.  Werburgh's  was  well 
stocked  with  books,  not  only  on  history  but  on 
geography,  topography,  natural  history,  and  every 
department  of  human  knowledge.  Higden  himself 
was  a  literary  glutton  who  devoured  all  kinds  of 
literature,  and  he  laid  all  the  stores  of  ancient  and 
modern  learning  under  contribution  for  a  com- 
plete history  of  the  world.    He  lived  to  a  good  old 


?|igljfn*^  Polgc^ronicott*  275 

age  and  was  able  to  complete  his  extraordinary 
undertaking ;  but  beyond  these  facts  we  hardly 
know  anything  whatever  of  his  personal  histoj-y. 
He  was  born,  it  is  said,  somewhere  in  the  west  of 
England,  but  in  what  precise  year  we  have  no 
means  of  ascertaining.  He  is  believed  to  have 
taken  monastic  vows  in  or  about  the  year  1299, 
and  according  to  a  note  in  an  early  manuscript  he 
died  in  1363.*  From  his  own  writings  it  appears 
that  he  had  travelled  so  far  as  to  be  familiar  with 
Derbyshire,  Shropshire,  and  Lancashire ;  but  there 
is  no  satisfactory  evidence  that  he  ever  visited 
foreign  countries.  All  the  information  he  possessed 
about  them  was  derived  from  books  alone. 

The  title  that  he  gave  to  his  work  is  explained 
by  himself  to  mean  that  it  is  a  history  of  many 
periods  or  ages.  It  was  undertaken  at  the  request 
of  his  fellow  monks,  to  whom  his  comprehensive 
intellect  and  his  peculiar  fitness  for  the  task  of  an 
historian  must  have  been  well  known.  He  himself 
had  at  first  proposed  to  compile  from  various 
sources  a  history  of  his  native  country,  but  he 
was  encouraged  to  enlarge  the  scope  of  the  work 
and  make  it  a  universal  history.  He  divided  the 
whole  into  seven  books,  after  the  example,  he  says, 
of  the  First  Worker,  who  made  everything  in  six 

•  Which  probably  means  1364  by  our  modem  computation,  as 
the  time  of  year,  according  to  Bale,  was  about  the  feast  of  St. 
Gregory,  i.e.  about  March  12.  This  point  has  been  overlooked  by 
Professor  Babington  in  his  interesting  introduction  to  the  Polychro- 


276  ?Ead5  €Jron{clcr<J  of  lEnglanU. 

days  and  rested  on  the  seventh.  He  also  aimed  at 
a  more  perfect  system  of  chronology,  noting  the 
dates  of  events  according  to  more  than  one  com- 
putation of  years  ;  and  he  points  out  in  an  early 
chapter  some  of  the  errors  of  former  systems.  He 
begins  by  explaining  the  plan  of  the  work  and 
giving  a  catalogue  of  his  authorities.  He  also  warns 
the  reader  that  certainty  in  historical  matters  is  not 
always  to  be  looked  for,  and  that  he  cannot  abso- 
lutely guarantee  the  truth  of  everything  he  relates. 
For  even  the  Apostle,  he  observes,  does  not  say, 
"  Whatsoever  things  were  written  are  necessarily 
true,"  but  only  "  Whatsoever  things  were  written 
were  written  for  our  learning."  (Rom.  xv.  4.)  At 
the  same  time  it  would  be  wrong  to  reject  every- 
thing wonderful  as  if  it  were  on  that  very  account 
incredible.  He  will  therefore  simply  reproduce  in 
his  own  words  the  information  derived  from  other 
writers,  shielding  himself  against  responsibility  by 
naming  the  authors  he  has  followed  at  the  head  of 
every  chapter ;  and  any  observations  of  his  own 
that  he  may  think  fit  to  introduce  he  will  distin- 
guish by  an  initial  R. 

With  these  and  some  other  preliminary  remarks 
iie  begins  first  an  account  of  the  dimensions  of  the 
habitable  world,  derived  from  Ptolemy  and  a  writer 
called  Priscianus,  by  which  he  is  led  to  infer  that 
the  circumference  of  the  whole  earth  is  20,040 
miles,  giving  a  diameter  of  nearly  6500  miles,  or 
more  exactly,  6491  ;  so  that  from  the  centre  of 
the  earth  to  the  surface  should  be  3245  miles  and 


I^gticn'j}  ^^olgtjronlcon,  277 

a  fraction  of  a  mile  over.  And  this,  if  the  current 
belief  was  true  as  to  the  position  of  hell,  must  be 
the  distance  of  that  world  of  woe  from  the  surface 
of  our  earth.  He  then  goes  on  to  describe  from 
St.  Augustine,  Bede,  Pliny,  and  others,  the  bounda- 
ries and  extent  of  Europe,  Asia,  and  Africa,  their 
climates  and  their  populations,  the  Mediterranean 
Sea,  and  the  ocean  which  encircled  the  world,  the 
different  provinces  of  the  earth,  and  the  physical 
geography  of  each.  In  the  course  of  this  survey 
he  is  led  to  a  disquisition  concerning  the  situation 
of  Paradise,  which,  following  the  opinion  of  the 
French  divine,  Petrus  Comestor,  he  considers 
not  to  have  been  submerged  with  the  rest  of  the 
world  in  Noah's  flood.  In  his  account  of  India, 
along  with  much  fabulous  matter  about  extraordi- 
nary dragons  and  the  battles  of  pigmies  and  cranes, 
men  with  the  heads  of  dogs,  and  other  monsters, 
he  speaks  of  the  institutions  of  caste  and  widow- 
burning.  He  then  devotes  a  chapter  to  the  wonders 
of  ancient  and  modern  Rome,  and  another  to  the 
institutions  of  the  ancient  Romans.  Then  follows 
a  lengthened  description  of  the  countries  of  modern 
Europe,  their  inhabitants,  and  their  principal  pro- 
ducts. The  chapters  devoted  to  this  part  of  the 
work  are  of  very  unequal  interest ;  but  as  a  speci- 
men of  the  facts  contained  in  them,  it  is  mentioned 
that  Brabant  was  then  famous  for  the  dyeing  of 
wool,  which  it  received  from  England  and  trans- 
mitted to  other  countries.  Although  England  pro- 
duced the  best  of  wools,  it  had  not  water  suitable 


2  7?.  "Earlg  ©^ronicto  of  IcnglanD. 

for  dyeing.  There  was,  however,  a  well  at  London, 
and  a  particular  place  in  the  river  which  passed 
through  Lincoln,  which  enabled  the  dyers  to  pro- 
duce a  very  beautiful  scarlet. 

After  his  account  of  the  different  countries  on 
the  continent  of  Europe,  and  of  the  islands  of 
the  Mediterranean  and  the  Atlantic  Ocean,  he 
devotes  four  chapters  to  Ireland,  the  information 
in  which  is  derived  from  Giraldus  Cambrensis,  one 
to  Scotland,  and  one  to  Wales.  At  last  he  comes 
to  his  own  country,  and  concludes  the  first  of  his 
seven  books  with  twenty-two  chapters  upon  the 
geography,  climate,  physical  characteristics,  and 
natural  wealth  of  England,  its  political  and  eccle- 
siastical divisions,  its  original  inhabitants,  and  the 
language  and  manners  of  the  natives. 

It  is  unnecessary  to  describe  the  other  six  books 
at  so  much  length.  The  really  historical  part  of 
the  work  commences  with  the  second,  which  con- 
tains a  history  of  the  world,  from  the  Creation  to 
the  destruction  of  the  Temple  at  Jerusalem  by 
Nebuchadnezzar.  The  third  extends  from  the 
Babylonish  captivity  to  the  birth  of  Christ.  The 
fourth  ends  with  the  coming  of  the  Saxons  into 
England.  The  fifth  continues  the  narrative  to  the 
invasion  of  the  Danes.  The  sixth  concludes  with 
the  Norman  Conquest.  And  the  seventh  carries 
down  the  story  to  Higden's  own  time,  the  middle 
of  the  reign  of  Edward  III.  But  the  work  is  of 
no  great  value,  even  in  the  latter  part,  as  an  original 
authority,  and  little  reference  has  been  made  to  it 


3io5n  'Enhiu*  279 


by  any  of  our  modern  historians.  Its  real  interest 
lies  in  the  view  it  affords  of  the  historical,  geo- 
graphic, and  scientific  knowledge  of  the  age  in 
which  it  appeared.  No  work  was  ever  so  wonder- 
fully popular.  No  such  voluminous,  exhaustive, 
and  interesting  history,  had  ever  yet  been  written. 
It  was  reproduced  certainly  by  more  than  a  hun- 
dred copyists  within  a  century  after  its  publication. 
It  was  translated  into  English  by  more  than  one 
person.  An  epitome  of  it  issued  from  Caxton's 
press  as  early  as  1480.  Two  years  later,  Caxton 
published  the  work  itself  in  Trevisa's  English 
translation.  Another  edition  appeared  in  1483 ; 
and  later  editions  still  were  issued  by  Wynkyn  de 
Worde  and  others  in  the  end  of  the  fifteenth  and 
early  part  of  the  following  century. 

John  Trevisa,  Higden's  translator,  was  a  Cornish 
man,  who  had  studied  at  Oxford,  and  was  a  fellow 
of  Queen's  College  there.  He  was  vicar  of 
Berkeley,  in  Gloucestershire,  and  canon  of  the 
collegiate  church  of  Westbury,  but  whether  this 
was  Westbury  in  Gloucestershire,  or  the  place  of 
the  same  name  in  Wiltshire  is  uncertain.  He  had 
travelled  in  foreign  countries ;  and  in  a  treatise 
which  he  wrote  on  the  hot  springs  of  Bath  he 
speaks  of  having  bathed  in  those  of  Aix  la 
Chapelles,  and  Aix  in  Savoy,  the  former  of  which 
places  he  calls  Akon,  and  the  latter  Egges.  He 
seems  to  have  devoted  much  time  to  literary 
pursuits,  and  translation  of  good  works  was  his 
special  delight.     Among  his  original  writings  is  a 


28o  lEarls  C^ijtomUx^  of  ISnglanli. 

dialogue  on  translation  between  a  lord  and  a  clerk, 
who  are  to  be  understood  as  representing  his  patron, 
Lord  Berkeley,  and  himself.  Caxton  says  that  he 
also  made  a  translation  of  the  Bible ;  of  which  no 
manuscript  is  known  to  exist,  though  one,  perhaps, 
may  be  at  this  day  in  the  Vatican  at  Rome.  He 
translated  Occam's  celebrated  dialogue  between 
a  soldier  and  a  clergyman,  concerning  the  limits  of 
papal  and  imperial  power.  He  also  translated  a 
sermon  preached  by  Fitzralph,  archbishop  of 
Armagh,  at  Oxford,  in  1357,  against  the  mendicant 
friars.  He  dedicated  his  translation  of  the  Po/y- 
chronicoit  to  his  patron,  Thomas,  Lord  Berkeley, 
whose  chaplain  he  styles  himself.  It  was  finished, 
as  he  particularly  informs  us,  on  Thursday,  the 
1 8th  day  of  April,  1387,  being  the  tenth  year  of 
Richard  H.,  and  "the  yere  of  my  lordes  age.  Sir 
Thomas,  lord  of  Berkeley,  that  made  me  make  this 
translacion,  fyve  and  thyrtty."  By  some  strange 
error,  Caxton,  who  printed  the  work  a  century 
later,  misread  the  date  1387  as  1357,  ^"^^  to  make 
the  rest  correspond,  corrected  the  tenth  year  of 
Richard  H.  into  the  thirty-first  of  Edward  HL 
He  was  misled,  apparently,  by  the  fact  that  1357 
is  the  last  year  mentioned  in  the  narrative ;  but 
the  events  actually  recorded  come  down  as  late 
as  1360.  Caxton,  however,  printed  the  work,  not 
exactly  as  he  found  it,  but,  as  he  tells  us,  "  a  lytel 
embelysshed  fro  th'olde  makyng,"  and  added  a 
continuation  to  the  accession  of  Edward  IV.  In 
the  course  of  little  more  than  a  century  it  seems 


3Jo5n  Tubi^a*  281 


Trevisa's  language  had  become  so  antiquated  that 
Caxton  felt  it  necessary  to  change  '*  the  rude  and 
old  Englyssh,  that  is  to  wete,  certayn  wordes  which 
in  these  days  be  neither  usyd  ne  understanden." 
It  is  a  curious  fact  in  the  history  of  our  language 
that  English  of  the  time  of  Chaucer  had  already 
become  to  a  great  extent  unintelligible  in  the  days 
of  Edward  IV. 

It  cannot  be  said  that  either  the  work  of  Trevisa, 
or  the  continuation  of  it  by  Caxton  is  of  much 
value  or  interest  now-a-days,  except  in  a  philo- 
logical point  of  view.  Even  as  a  translation  the 
former  possesses  no  great  merit ;  for  Trevisa  was 
not  a  man  of  much  scholarship,  and  he  himself 
makes  the  very  candid  confession,  "  Though  I  can 
speke,  rede,  and  understande  Latyn,  there  is  moche 
Latyn  in  these  books  of  Cronykes  that  I  cannot 
understonde,  nether  thou,  without  studyeng,  avise- 
ment,  and  lokyng  of  other  bookes."  This  is  the 
more  remarkable,  as  Higden's  Latin  is  really  very 
good,  and  not  by  any  means  difficult  of  compre- 
hension. If  it  had  been  more  like  the  Latin  of  the 
mass-book,  or  the  ordinary  Latin  of  the  cloister, 
doubtless  Trevisa  would  have  understood  it  better ; 
but  a  solitary  country  clergyman  in  those  days 
could  not  be  expected  to  be  familiar  with  classical 
models,  or  to  have  many  opportunities  for  the 
**  lokyng  of  other  books." 

We  have  thus  carried  the  records  of  the  monks, 
down  to  the  era  of  printing  ;  and  we  may  note 
it   as   a  symptom  of  the  decline  of  the  monastic 


282  lEarlg  Chroniclers  of  lEnglanD. 

chronicle  that  even  before  that  date  there  seems 
to  have  been  a  large  demand  for  histories  written 
in  English  instead  of  Latin.  It  is  a  remarkable 
fact  that  while  so  many  editions  of  Trevisa's 
translation  of  Higden  issued  from  the  press  of 
Caxton  and  his  immediate  successors  the  Latin 
text  of  the  Polychronicon  has  never  to  this  day 
been  printed  in  its  entirety.*  If  monkish  litera- 
ture had  not  already  received  its  death  blow,  the 
appearance  of  the  printing  press  must  inevitably 
have  sealed  its  fate.  And  yet  it  perhaps  speaks 
something  for  the  life  of  monasticism,  only  sixty 
years  before  its  final  extinction,  that  the  father  of 
English  printing  was  encouraged  to  set  up  his  press 
within  the  precincts  of  Westminster  Abbey.  He  was, 
it  is  true,  only  the  abbot's  tenant,  living  in  the 
almonry  outside  the  abbey  gates.  When  he  talks 
of  his  works  being  printed  "  in  the  abbey,"  he  only 
means,  within  the  abbey  precincts.  But  it  is 
highly  probable  that  his  labours  met  with  cheerful 
recognition  and  encouragement  from  a  community 
in  which  the  work  of  the  copyist  was  now  plainly 
superseded.  That,  indeed,  was  dreary  work  at  the 
best,  and  hosts  of  clerical  errors  in  some  of  their 
productions  bear  witness  how  it  dulled  the  brain  ; 
so  that  we  need  not  wonder  if  the  monks  at  West- 
minster were  tired  of  it.  Apparently  even  the 
deciphering    of    earlier   writings    was    not    much 

*  An  edition  of  the  Latin  text  accompanied  by  Trevisa's  and 
another  old  English  translation  is  at  this  time  in  process  of  publica- 
tion in  the  Rolls  series. 


ajailliam  ©aiton,  283 


practised  among  them  then,  and  Caxton^s  services 
were  sometimes  called  to  help  in  it.  "  My  lord 
abbot  of  Westmynster,"  he  tells  us  in  his  preface 
to  the  Eiteydos,  "  did  do  shewe  to  me  late  certayn 
evydences  wryten  in  old  Englisshe,  for  to  reduce  it 
into  our  Englisshe  now  usid."* 

Caxton,  therefore,  may  in  one  point  of  view  be 
considered  the  successor  of  the  monastic  scribe 
and  copyist.  And  not  only  did  he  multiply  by 
his  press  the  copies  of  Trevisa's  Higdeit  \  but  he 
also  published  in  the  very  same  year,  a  chronicle 
of  his  own,  founded  on  the  old  Chronicle  of  the 
Brictey  which  he  continued  to  the  accession  of 
Edward  IV.  and  the  battle  of  Towton  in  1461. 
The  first  printer,  therefore,  at  once  took  the  place 
not  only  of  the  monastic  scribe  but  also  of  the 
monastic  chronicler. 

♦  Quoted  by  Mr.  Blades  in  Biography  of  Caxton^  74.  (ed.  1877.) 


CHAPTER  VII. 


RECORDS  OF  THE  CITY. 


The  Liber  de  Antiquis  Legibus — French  Chronicle  of  London — ITie 
Liber  Aldus — The  Chronicle  of  London — Gregory's  Chronicle — 
Account  of  Jack  Cade's  rebellion — Adventures  of  Margaret  of 
Anjou— The  Mayor  of  BristoVs  Kalendar — Fabyan's  Concord- 
ance of  Histories — More's  History  of  Richard  III. — Extract — 
Shakespeare  dramatised  More's  works — Harding's  Chronicle — 
HaWs  Chronicle — ^Polvd2reyergirs_iy/j/^rv— Grafton's  historical 
works— John  Sto\^=^^fiiI"5«^^73^  his  Chronicle^  and  his  Survey 
of  Loridon— Ireland — Holinshed's  Chronicle — Sources  of  Shakes- 
peare's  historical  plays. 

In  the  record  room  of  the  Guildhall  of  London 
is  an  ancient  manuscript,  known  as  the  Liber 
de  Antiquis  Legibus.  It  is  a  folio  volume  of 
very  miscellaneous  contents,  compiled,  however, 
as  we  may  reasonably  judge,  for  the  purpose 
indicated  by  its  title — to  preserve  a  record  of  the 
laws,  privileges,  and  liberties  of  the  city.  The 
date  of  its  composition  appears  to  have  been  at 
the  commencement  of  the  reign  of  Edward  I., 
when  the  contents  were  systematically  divided 
into  chapters,  with  an  index  prefixed.  But  the 
first  chapter  and  three  others  in  the  body  of  the 
manuscript    were    left    blank    by    the    compiler, 


aottijoa  Cr^ronUk^,  285 

and  the  space  allotted  to  them  was  used  at 
a  later  date  for  the  insertion  of  other  matters. 
Only  two  of  the  chapters  properly  constitute  that 
book  of  ancient  laws  from  which  the  volume  derives 
its  name.  But  among  the  other  matters,  are  ex- 
tracts from  the  English  history  of  William  ot 
Malmesbury,  and  a  later  Chronicle*  of  the  mayors 
and  sheriffs  of  London,  with  the  events  which 
occurred  in  each  mayoralty,  from  the  first  year  of 
Richard  Coeur  de  Lion,  when  the  city  was  incor- 
porated, to  the  year  1274,  where  the  record  ends 
with  an  account  of  the  preparations  for  Edward 
the  First's  coronation. 

This  is  the  earliest  of  a  number  of  city  chronicles, 
which  continued  for  centuries  to  be  composed  in  the 
same  form,  or  nearly  so.  They  were  drawn  up  in 
the  shape  of  annals,  with  the  names  of  the  mayor 
and  sheriffs  for  each  year  at  the  head  of  the  record 
of  that  year's  transactions.  This  earliest  chronicle, 
however,  differs  slightly  from  its  successors,  in 
exhibiting  only  the  sheriffs*  names  at  the  head  ot 
the  year,  and  mentioning  the  names  of  the  mayor 
elected  in  the  text.  It  is  devoted  also,  for  the 
most  part,  to  civic  events,  which,  however,  are 
of  course  in  some  cases  of  considerable  political 
importance.  At  the  commencement,  indeed,  the 
record  of  many  years  is  left  blank,  and  nothing  but 
the  names  of  the  sheriffs   is  given.      But   in   the 

*  Published  by  the  Camden  Society.  Edited  by  Thomas  Staple- 
ton,  Esq. 


286  lEatlg  CTfironlclcrg  of  lEnglant), 

reign  of  Henry  III.  the  annals  become  of  more 
general  interest,  owing  to  the  important  part  taken 
by  the  city  of  London  in  the  struggle  between  the 
king  and  his  barons ;  and  besides  a  summary  of 
events,  a  number  of  royal  letters  and  other  docu- 
ments are  quoted  in  the  text. 

A  French  Chronicle  of  London,  published  like 
the  preceding  by  the  Camden  Society,*  extends 
from  the  forty-fourth  year  of  Henry  HI.,  to  the 
seventeenth  of  Edward  HI.  French  was  at  that 
time  the  language  of  the  king's  court,  and  of  the 
courts  of  law.  This  chronicle  seems  to  be  quite 
independent  of  the  preceding.  It  is  difficult  to  say 
from  what  sources  the  earlier  part  was  compiled, 
in  which  we  find  the  insults  offered  by  the  citizens 
to  Eleanor  of  Provence,  the  queen  of  Henry  III., 
attributed  to  their  resentment  of  her  cruelly  having 
put  to  death  the  fair  Rosamond  !  A  slight  con- 
fusion this  between  the  reign  of  Henry  III.,  and 
that  of  Henry  II.,  each  of  whom  happened  to 
have  a  queen  named  Eleanor.  Nevertheless,  this 
chronicle  seems  to  have  been  composed  with  care, 
and  its  statements  are  generally  accurate. 

The  preservation  of  such  records  must  have  been 
important  to  the  civic  authorities  for  the  protection 
and  maintenance  of  municipal  rights.  The  city 
liberties  were  on  various  pretences  repeatedly  seized 
by  King  Henry  III.,  and  King  Edward  L,  who 
imprisoned  the  mayor  and  other  leading  citizens, 
and  placed  the  city  under  the  control  of  a  custos 

•  Edited  by  George  James  Aungier. 


ZontJoii  ®]^toniclc0.  287 

or  warden.     Yet  these  things  were  not  done  with- 
out strong  remonstrances  and  appeals  to  ancient 
custom.    The  city  had  its  own  officers,  its  own  laws, 
and   its   own  system   of  jurisprudence — all   parts 
of  an  unwritten   constitution,   founded    upon    the 
charters    of    several    kings,    beginning    with    the 
Conqueror.      No    complete   account    of    its   laws 
and  usages  seems  to  have  been  compiled  till  the 
beginning  of  the  fifteenth  century.     But  the  two 
great   pestilences   which   visited    England   in    the 
reign  of  Edward  III.  suggested  strongly  the  ex- 
pediency that  such  a  work  should  be  undertaken  ; 
for  all  the  old  and  experienced  men  were  then  cut 
off,  and  those  who  succeeded  them  in  the  govern- 
ment of  the  city  were  often  at  a  loss  for  want  of 
written  directions  and  precedents  how  to  act.    Still 
the   labour  was   an   arduous   one,    and   was   long 
delayed.     But  at  length,  in  the  year  141 9,  in  the 
third  mayoralty  of  the  celebrated   Richard  Whit- 
tington,   what   is  called  the  Liber  Albus  of    the 
city  of  London  was  composed  by  the  town  clerk, 
John  Carpenter ;  and  from  its  pages  we  derive  a 
very  remarkable  mass  of  information,  not  only  as 
to  the  rights  and  liberties  of  the  city,  but  also  as  to 
its  ancient  social  condition  and  customs.     The  sub- 
stance of  these  revelations  is  given  by  Mr.  Riley, 
who  edited  this  volume  for  the  Master  of  the  Rolls, 
in  an  introduction  of  considerable  length. 

After  this  we  meet  with  chronicles  of  the  city  of 
London  written  in  English,  on  the  same  model  as 
those  earlier  ones  in  Latin  and  in  French.     One  of 


283  lEarlg  ©j^ronlcto  of  lEnglanD. 

these,  published  by  Sir  Harris  Nicolas  in  1827, 
under  the  title  The  Chronicle  of  London^  appears 
to  have  been  compiled  in  the  reign  of  Henry  VI., 
and  afterwards  continued  to  the  death  of  Edward 
IV.  Another  *,  derived  from  much  the  same 
materials  as  far  as  the  reign  of  Richard  II.,  appears 
to  have  been  the  work  of  William  Gregory,  skinner, 
who  was  made  lord  mayor  in  145 1,  the  year  after 
Jack  Cade's  rebellion  ;  but  it  was  continued  by 
another  hand,  at  least  half  way  through  the  reign 
of  Edward  IV.,  and  the  only  known  manuscript 
of  it  which  we  possess,  ends  abruptly  in  1469,  in  the 
middle  of  a  sentence,  some  leaves  being  lost.  Both 
the  part  written  by  Gregory  and  the  continuation 
are  very  interesting.  We  may  give  as  a  specimen 
of  the  former,  a  brief  extract  from  the  account  of 
Cade's  insurrection,  of  which  the  writer  must  have 
been  an  eye-witness  ;  reducing  it  as  far  as  possible 
to  modern  spelling,  for  the  sake  of  clearness  : — 

"And  upon  the  morrow  he  came  with  a  great  host  into 
Southwark,  and  at  the  White  Hart  he  took  his  lodging. 
And  upon  the  morrow,  that  was  the  Friday,  against  even, 
they  smote  asunder  the  ropes  of  the  drawbridge  and  fought 
sore  and  manly,  and  many  a  man  was  murdered  and  killed 
in  that  conflict,  I  wot  not  what  to  name  it  for  the  multitude 
of  riff-raff.  And  then  they  entered  into  the  city  of  London 
as  men  that  had  been  half  beside  their  wits  ;  and  in  that 
fury-ness  they  went,  as  they  said,  for  the  common  weal  of  the 
realm  of  England,  even  straight  into  a  merchant's  place 
y-named  Philip  Malpas.  of  London.     If  it  were  true  as  they 

♦  Edited  by  myself  for  the  Camden  Society,  in  a  volume  entitled 
The  Historical  Collections  of  a  London  Citizen. 


Hontion  ^IbtonklcjS.  289 


surmised  after  their  doing  I  remit  me  to  ink  and  paper. — 
Detis  scit,  et  ego  non.  But  well  I  wot  that  every  ill  beginning 
most  commonly  hath  an  ill  ending,  and  every  good  beginning 
hath  very  good  ending  {Prov erbium : — Felix  principium 
Jinein  facit  esse  beatunt).  And  that  Philip  Malpas  was 
alderman,  and  thev  spoiled  him,  and  bare  away  much  good  of 
his,  and  in  special  much  money,  both  of  silver  and  gold,  the 
value  of  a  notable  sum,  and  in  special  of  merchandise,  as  of  tin, 
wood,  madder,  and  alum,  with  great  quantity  of  woollen  cloth 
and  many  rich  jewels,  with  other  notable  stuff  of  feather  beds, 
bedding,  napery,  and  many  a  rich  cloth  of  arras  to  the  value 
of  a  notable  sum — Nescio,  sed  Deus  omnia  scit.  And  in  the 
evening  they  went  with  their  simple  captain  to  his  lodgings. 
But  a  certain  (a  few)  of  his  simpler  and  rude  many  abode 
there  all  the  night,  weening  to  them  that  they  had  wit  and 
wisdom  for  to  have  guided  or  put  in  guiding  all  England,  all 
so  soon  as  they  had  got  the  city  of  London  by  a  mishap  of 
cutting  of  two  sorry  cords  that  now  be  altered  and  made  two 
strong  chains  of  iron  unto  the  drawbridge  of  London.  But 
they  had  other  men  with  them,  as  well  of  London  as  of  their 
own  party  ;  and  by  them  of  one  part  and  of  that  other  part 
they  left  nothing  unsought,  and  they  searched  all  that  night. 

"  And  in  the  morn  he  came  again,  that  sorry  and  simple 
and  rebellious  captain,  with  his  many.  That  was  Saturday  ; 
and  it  was  also  St.  Martin's  Day,  the  dedication  of  St.  Martin 
in  the  Vintry,  the  4th  day  of  July.  And  then  divers  guests 
were  y-summoned  at  the  Guildhall ;  and  there  Robert  Home, 
being  alderman,  was  arrested  and  brought  into  Newgate. 
And  that  same  day  WiUiam  Crowmer,  squire  and  sheriff  of 
Kent,  was  beheaded  in  the  field  without  Aldgate,  at  the  Mile's 
end,  beside  Clopton's  place  ;  and  another  man,  that  was 
named  John  Bayle,  was  beheaded  at  the  White  Chapel.  And 
the  same  day  afternoon  was  beheaded  in  Cheap,  afore  the 
the  Standard,  Sir  James  Fynes,  being  at  that  time  the  lord 
Saye  and  great  treasurer  of  England  ;  the  which  was  brought 
out  of  the  Tower  of  London  unto  the  Guildhall,  and  there  of 
divers  treasons  he  was  examined,  of  which  he  acknowledged 

ENG.  U 


290  ^atls  Crjbroniclcr^  of  lEnglanU. 

the  death  of  that  notable  and  famous  prince,  the  duke  of 
Gloucester.*  And  then  they  brought  him  unto  the  Standard, 
in  Cheap,  and  there  he  received  his  jewys  (dues  ^)  and  his 
death.  And  so  forth  all  the  three  heads  that  day  smitten  off 
were  set  upon  the  bridge  of  London,  and  the  two  other  heads 
taken  down  that  stood  upon  the  London  Bridge  before." 

This  is  not  the  work  of  a  cultivated  author,  but 
it  is  the  writing  of  a  man  who  has  evidently  him- 
self witnessed  the  scenes  he  describes,  and  writes 
from  personal  knowledge.  Equally  interesting,  in 
some  parts,  is  the  work  of  the  continuator,  whose 
information  is  generally  quite  as  good,  though 
perhaps  he  is  not  quite  so  frequently  an  eye-witness. 
Take,  for  example,  the  following  account  of  some 
of  the  less  known  passages  in  the  life  of  Margaret 
of  Anjou — her  adventures  after  the  defeat  of  her 
party  at  the  battle  of  Northampton  : — 

"  And  then,  the  queen  hearing  this,  she  voided  unto  Wales  ; 
but  she  was  met  with  beside  the  castle  of  Malpas ;  and  a 
servant  of  her  own,  that  she  had  made  both  yeoman  and 
gentleman,  and  after  appointed  for  to  be  in  office  with  her 
son,  the  prince,  spoiled  her  and  robbed  her,  and  put  her  so 
in  doubt  of  her  life  and  son's  life  also.  And  then  she  came 
to  the  castle  of  Hardelowe  (Harlech),  in  Wales ;  and  she 
had  many  great  gifts  and  [was]  greatly  comforted,  for  she 
had  need  thereof,  for  she  had  a  full  easy  many  {i.e.  a  very 
small  company)  about  her,  the  number  of  four  persons.  And 
most  commonly  she  rode  behind  a  young,  poor  gentleman 
of  fourteen  years'  age ;  his  name  was  John  Combe,  y-bom 
at  Amesbury,  in  Wiltshire.  And  there  hence  she  removed 
privily  unto  the  Lord  Jasper,  lord  and  earl  of  Pembroke, 
for  she  durst  not  abide  in  no  place  that  [was]  open,  but  in 

*  Popularly  called  "the  good  duke  Humphrey." 


^  33rtgtoI  (t\)vomt\t,  291 

private.  The  cause  was  that  counterfeit  tokens  were  sent 
unto  her  as  though  that  they  had  come  from  her  most 
dread  lord,  the  king,  Harry  the  Sixth  ;  but  it  was  not  of  his 
sending,  neither  of  [his]  doing,  but  forged  things.  For 
they  that  brought  the  tokens  were  of  the  king's  house,  and 
some  of  the  prince's  house,  and  some  of  her  own  house,  and 
bade  her  beware  of  the  tokens,  that  she  gave  no  credence 
thereto  ;  for  at  the  king's  departing  fro  Coventry  toward 
the  field  of  Northampton,  he  kissed '  her  and  blessed  the 
prince,  and  commanded  her  that  she  should  not  come  unto 
him  till  that  [he]  sent  a  special  token  unto  her  that  no  man 
knew  but  the  king  and  she.  For  the  lords  would  fain  [have] 
had  her  unto  London,  for  they  knew  well  that  all  the 
workings  that  were  done  grew  by  her ;  for  she  was  more 
wittier  than  the  king,  and  that  appeareth  by  his  deeds,  etc." 

Of  city  chronicles  like  these  there  seem  to  have 
been  several,  both  in  London  and  elsewhere,  to- 
wards the  end  of  the  fifteenth  century.  Bristol, 
we  know,  had  its  chronicle,  called  the  Mayor  of 
Bristol's  Kalendar*  compiled  in  the  same  form 
as  London  Chronicles  by  Robert  Ricart,  town  clerk 
of  Bristol,  in  the  reign  of  Edward  IV.  This  work 
was  continued  by  other  hands,  even  to  the  reign  of 
James  I.,  and  desultory  entries  added  as  late  as  the 
close  of  the  seventeenth  century.  Almost  ail  of 
these  chronicles,  however,  are  mere  dry  records  of 
events  under  the  several  years,  seldom  containing 
anything  so  interesting  as  the  two  extracts  we 
have  quoted  from  Gregory.  And  so  long  as  the 
city  chronicle  adhered  to  the  old  form  of  annals 
little  more  was  to  be  expected  from  it.  Although 
the   city  had   become  in  the  course  of  centuries 

•  Edited  by  Miss  Toulmin  Smith  for  the  Camden  Society. 


292  lEarlg  dt'^KonkUx^  of  ^nglanU. 

more  and  more  of  a  political  centre,  although  the 
spread  of  education  had  lessened  the  disparity  in 
literary  power  between  monk  and  layman — yet 
the  decline  in  the  old  monastic  history  was  certainly 
not  compensated  by  an  equal  gain  in  the  civic 
chronicle  till  the  Middle  Ages  had  fairly  passed 
away.  One  work  of  the  kind,  however,  towards  the 
close  of  this  period,  is  of  wider  scope  and  of  some- 
what greater  literary  pretensions  than  its  fellows. 

Robert  Fabyan,  alderman  of  London,  a  member 
of  the  Drapers'  company  conceived  a  grander 
design  than  a  mere  collection  of  city  annals.  His 
object  was  to  compose  what  he  called  a  Concordance 
of  Histories,  which,  though  mainly  devoted  to  the 
affairs  of  England,  had  sections  entirely  occupied 
with  those  of  France.  The  work  begins  with  the 
arrival  of  Brutus,  and  is  divided  into  seven  parts  ; 
but  the  first  four  parts  are  exceedingly  brief,  and 
even  the  fifth,  which  is  longer,  only  comes  down 
to  Cadwallader,  and  the  sixth  to  the  Battle  of 
Hastings  ;  so  that  the  whole  history  of  England 
and  of  other  countries  from  William  the  Con- 
queror to  the  days  of  the  Tudors  is  contained  in 
the  seventh  part.  It  was  an  elaborate  work,  com- 
piled with  very  great  care,  from  a  great  variety 
of  authors,  both  English  and  French.  Original 
verses  also  were  inserted  in  various  places,  many 
of  them  being  merely  addressed  to  the  Virgin  at 
the  beginning  or  end  of  a  part,  but  some,  like 
the  complaint  of  King  Edward  H.,  having  real 
reference   to   the   history.     No  one,  however,  will 


dPabgan'^  ©j^ronwle.  293 

greatly  commend  these  as  poetry.  But  in  the 
main  he  based  the  part  of  his  narrative  devoted 
to  English  history  upon  city  annals  of  an  earlier 
date  like  those  of  Gregory,  and  preserved  the 
same  form,  heading  the  record  of  each  year  with 
the  names  of  the  mayor  and  sheriffs  of  that  year. 

Of  the  personal  history  of  Fabyan  very  little  is 
known,  but  it  is  believed  he  was  of  a  good  Essex 
family,  though  he  himself  is  said  to  have  been  born 
in  London.  He  was  made  sheriff  of  London  in 
1493,  and  three  years  later  was  appointed  one  of 
a  deputation  from  the  city  to  petition  the  king 
for  redress  of  certain  new  impositions  levied  on 
English  cloth  in  the  Low  Countries.  In  1497  he 
was  one  of  those  commissioned  to  keep  the  city 
gates  in  case  the  Cornish  rebels  should  march  on 
London.  In  1502  he  resigned  his  alderman's  gown 
on  the  pretext  of  poverty,  though  he  seems  to 
have  been  in  very  good  circumstances,  to  avoid 
taking  upon  himself  the  office  of  mayor.  He  died 
on  the  28th  February,  15 13,  and  his  will  was  proved 
in  July  following. 

His  chronicle  was  named  by  himself  The  Con- 
cordance of  Histories,  but  was  first  printed  by 
Pynson,  in  15 16,  with  the  title  The  New  Chronicles 
of  England  and  France.  This  first  edition  is  very 
rare.  Many  copies,  it  is  said,  were  burnt  by 
Cardinal  Wolsey's  order  as  reflecting  on  the  ex- 
cessive wealth  of  the  clergy ;  but  the  statement 
is  not  very  well  attested.  This  edition  brings 
down  the  English  history  to  the  battle  of  Bosworth 


294  lEarTg  ©JronicIrrsJ  of  lEnglanD, 

in  1485,  and  the  French  to  the  year  1495,  with  a 
notice  of  the  death  of  Henry  VII.  in  1509  upon 
a  separate  leaf.  A  second  edition,  printed  by 
Rastell,  in  1533,  contains  the  whole  reign  of 
Henry  VH.,  which  there  is  some  reason  to  believe, 
notwithstanding  its  former  omission,  is  by  Fabyan 
himself.  But  later  editions  contained  continuations 
by  other  hands  into  the  reigns  of  Henry  VHI.  and 
Queen  Elizabeth. 

Still,  the  city  chronicle  had  not  yet  attained  any 
high  degree  of  literary  merit ;  nor,  indeed,  did  it 
ever  do  so  while  it  retained  the  form  of  a  city 
chronicle  at  all.  But  within  a  few  months  after 
Fabyan's  death  the  great  Sir  Thomas  More,  then 
under-sheriff  of  London,  wrote  in  Latin  and  in 
English  a  brief  history  of  Richard  HI.*  which, 
though  he  left  it,  after  all,  a  mere  unfinished  frag- 
ment, was  adopted  and  incorporated  with  their 
works  by  all  succeeding  chroniclers  for  more  than 
a  hundred  years,  as  the  only  adequate  account 
of  that  extraordinary  usurper.  This  is,  indeed, 
the  fountain-head  of  a  great  deal  of  our  informa- 
tion, not  exactly  about  the  reign  of  Richard  HI., 
for  it  is  carried  little  further  than  his  coronation 

•  It  is  said  to  have  been  written  in  the  year  15 13,  when  More  was 
under-sheriff  of  London.  If  the  statement  means  that  it  was 
completed  in  that  year,  we  must  understand  it  according  to  the  old 
computation  by  which  the  year  1513  ended  on  the  24th  March  of 
what  we  should  call  the  year  1 5 14.  For  in  the  beginning  of  the 
work  More  speaks  of  Thomas,  Lord  Howard,  as  "afterwards  earl  of 
Surrey,"  who  was  so  created  on  the  ist  February,  15 14,  for  his 
services  at  Flodden  Field. 


iHow*^  Kitj^arti  IM,  295 

and  the  murder  of  the  princes,  but  about  the 
manner  in  which  he  paved  his  way  to  the  throne. 
The  story  is  told  with  consummate  art,  and  it 
must  certainly  have  been  owing  either  to  great 
indifference  to  his  own  literary  reputation  or  to  the 
pressure  of  occupations  of  a  different  nature  that 
the  author  never  completed  a  work  of  such  remark- 
able merit. 

That  More's  account  of  this  monster  in  human 
shape  is  somewhat  highly  coloured,  might  be 
admitted  without  prejudice  to  the  literary  character 
of  the  work.  The  very  characteristics  which,  in 
one  point  of  view,  are  a  proof  of  genius,  may  some- 
times detract  from  the  character  of  an  author  as 
a  judicious  and  impartial  historian.  And  it  must 
be  acknowledged  that  not  only  does  More's  History 
contain  statements  here  and  there  which  are  not 
severely  accurate,  but  his  exaggerations  are 
occasionally  tinged  with  the  superstition  of  the 
age  to  an  extent  we  should  hardly  have  expected 
in  a  man  of  so  much  wisdom.  This  will  be  apparent 
in  the  passage  we  are  about  to  quote,  containing 
a  personal  portrait  of  Richard  himself.  Yet  it 
may  be  observed,  that  while  the  calm  judicial  mind 
seeks  always  to  estimate  each  statement  at  its 
proper  value,  the  narrative  of  a  true  historian  ought 
undoubtedly  to  reflect  the  follies  and  superstitions 
of  the  time  quite  as  much  as  the  mature  judgment 
of  the  author.  Nay,  these  things  are  even  more 
important,  it  may  be  said,  than  an  absolutely 
correct    view    of    the    facts.     More's    History   of 


296  lEarls  ©l^rontcletjj  of  lEnglanU. 

Richard  III.  is,  from  this  point  of  view,  all  the 
more  perfect  a  work  of  art  because  it  contains 
stories  of  omens  and  suggestions  of  monstrous 
physical  combinations  not  altogether  discredited 
by  the  author  himself,  besides  imputations  of 
witchcraft  put  into  the  mouth  of  the  leading 
personage  at  the  council  table.  It  is  in  these 
touches  more  than  anywhere  else  that  we  discern 
symptoms  of  the  intellectual  and  moral  degradation 
of  an  age  of  civil  war,  usurpation,  and  anarchy. 

The  following  is  More's  picture  of  the  usurper. 
After  a  notice  of  the  duke  of  York  his  father,  and 
of  his  two  elder  brothers  Edward  IV.  and  the 
duke  of  Clarence,  the  writer  goes  on  to  say — 

"  Richard,  the  third  son,  of  whom  we  now  entreat,  was  in 
wit  and  courage  equal  with  either  of  them  ;  in  body  and 
prowess,  far  under  them  both  ;  httle  of  stature,  ill-featured  of 
limbs,  crook-backed,  his  left  shoulder  much  higher  than 
his  right,  hard  favoured  of  visage,  and  such  as  is  in  states  * 
called  warly,  in  other  men  otherwise.  He  was  malicious, 
wrathful,  envious,  and  from  before  his  birth  ever  froward. 
It  is  for  truth  reported  that  the  duchess,  his  mother,  had 
so  much  ado  in  her  travail  that  she  could  not  be  delivered 
of  him  uncut ;  and  that  he  came  into  the  world  with 
the  feet  forward,  as  men  be  borne  outward,  and  (as  the 
fame  runneth)  also  not  untoothed  ;  whether  men,  of  hatred, 
report  above  the  truth,  or  else  that  nature  changed  her 
course  in  his  beginning,  who  in  the  course  of  his  life  many 
things  unnaturally  committed.  None  evil  captain  was  he 
in  the  war,  as  to  which  his  disposition  was  more  metely 
than  for  peace.  Sundry  victories  had  he,  and  sometimes 
overthrows,  but  never  in  default  of  his  own  person,  either  of 
hardiness  or  of  politic  order.    Free  was  he  called  of  dispence, 

*  Men  of  high  position. 


iW:ore*^  J^tfJarD  Ml.  297 


and  somewhat  above  his  power  Hberal ;  with  large  gifts  he 
gat  him  unsteadfast  friendship,  for  which  he  was  fain  to  pill 
and  spoil  in  other  places,  and  get  him  steadfast  hatred.  He 
was  close  and  secret,  a  deep  dissembler,  lowly  of  countenance, 
arrogant  of  heart,  outwardly  companionable  where  he  in- 
wardly hated,  not  letting  to  kiss  whom  he  thought  to  kill  ; 
dispiteous  and  cruel,  not  for  evil  will  alway,  but  after  (Pofter) 
for  ambition,  and  either  for  the  surety  or  increase  of  his 
estate.  Friend  and  foe  was  muchwhat  indifferent  where  his 
advantage  grew  ;  he  spared  no  man's  death  whose  life  with- 
stood his  purpose." 

Such  vigorous  writing  as  this  naturally  gave  a 
new  turn  to  history.  The  figure  of  Richard  III., 
in  all  its  moral  and  physical  deformity,  was  from 
that  time  indelibly  stamped  upon  literature ;  and 
so  were  its  dark  surroundings  of  legend,  witchcraft, 
and  superstition.  No  other  picture  of  the  man,  no 
other  account  of  his  extraordinary  usurpation,  was 
known  to  the  reading  public.  Shakespeare  himself 
could  do  no  more  than  dramatise  what  More  had 
depicted  so  vividly  in  words.  And  how  entirely 
Shakespeare  followed  the  guidance  of  Sir  Thomas 
is  evident  on  the  most  cursory  perusal  of  the 
history  and  the  play.  Perhaps  the  best  example  of 
this  will  be  found  in  the  celebrated  scene  in  council 
at  the  Tower,  in  which  the  Protector  orders  Hastings 
to  be  beheaded.  Here  in  the  history  we  have  the 
very  same  scene  in  all  its  details.  The  lords  are 
first  assembled  in  council,  "  devising  the  honour- 
able solemnity  of  the  king's  coronation."  The 
Protector  comes  in  among  them  about  nine  o'clock, 
"  excusing  himself  that  he  had  been  from  them  so 


298  liarlg  CJj^ronlflcr^  of  lEnglantJ. 


long,  saying  merrily  that  he  had  been  asleep  that 
day."  He  compliments  the  Bishop  of  Ely  on  his 
fine  strawberries  at  Holborn,  and  requests  him  to 
send  for  some.  He  then  gets  the  lords  into  con- 
versation with  each  other,  and  praying  them  to 
spare  him  for  a  little  while,  leaves  the  council.  He 
returns  with  an  altered  countenance,  knitting  his 
brows  and  biting  his  lips.  He  asks  "what  were 
they  worthy  to  have  that  compass  the  destruction  of 
me,  being  so  near  of  blood  unto  the  king  ? "  He  is 
answered  by  Hastings,  "  who,  for  the  love  between 
them,  thought  he  might  be  boldest  with  him."  He 
shows  his  withered  arm,  imputing  its  condition  to 
witchcraft  practised  by  the  queen  and  Jane  Shore. 
Hastings  answers  with  an  "  if,"  as  in  the  play,  and 
the  catastrophe  follows. 

Moreover,  after  recording  the  execution  of  Hast- 
ings, More  goes  on  to  moralize  on  some  tokens  of 
his  coming  fate,  by  which  he  might  have  taken 
warning  ;  and  the  dramatist  puts  into  the  mouth  of 
Hastings  himself  a  last  utterance  regretting  that  he 
had  not  taken  note  of  them.  Lord  Stanley  had 
dreamed  about  a  boar  that  had  attacked  them  both 
till  the  blood  ran  about  their  shoulders — a  signifi- 
cant dream,  for  the  boar  was  King  Richard's  cog- 
nizance. Hastings  himself,  too,  had  been  rallied 
by  a  knight  on  conversing  with  a  priest  that  morn- 
ing on  his  way  to  the  Tower,  the  knight  saying  with 
a  jest,  "you  have  no  need  of  a  priest  yet,"  as  if  to 
intimate  "  you  shall  have  soon."  Yet  at  the  Tower 
wharf  he   met   with    a    pursuivant   to   whom   he 


iltore*^  Kic^aiti  IM,  299 

enigmatically  boasted  of  a  triumph  he  was  soon  to 
have  over  his  enemies  of  the  queen's  kindred  when 
the  axe  hung  over  his  own  head.  All  these 
incidents,  recounted  by  More  at  considerable  length, 
are  condensed  by  Shakespeare  into  a  few  lines. 

The  history  of  Richard  III.  was  first  published 
in  the  year  1543,  not  as  a  separate  work,  but  as 
part  of  •  a  prose  continuation  to  the  rhyming 
chronicle  of  Harding,  by  Richard  Grafton,  an 
industrious  printer  and  collecter  of  chronicles  in  the 
reign  of  Henry  VIII.  Grafton  afterwards  printed 
it  again  in  his  publication  of  what  is  commonly 
called  Hairs  Chronicle,  and  again  in  a  chronicle 
known  by  his  own  name.  But  although  the  debt 
of  the  compiler  to  Sir  Thomas  More  was  acknow- 
ledged in  each  of  these  cases  by  marginal  notes, 
the  language  was  a  good  deal  altered  in  parts,  and 
the  genuine  text  was  only  printed  for  the  first  time 
with  More's  other  English  works  in  1557.  We 
must  now,  however,  part  company  with  this  in- 
teresting little  fragment,  and  speak  of  the  works 
with  which  it  was  incorporated. 

Hardyng's  Chronicle  is  little  more  than  a  literary 
curiosity.  The  author,  John  Hardyng,  was  a  north 
countryman  of  good  family,  who  was  brought  .up 
in  the  household  of  Harry  Percy,  the  celebrated 
Hotspur,  and  was  with  him  at  the  battle  of  Shrews- 
bury, when  he  fell  in  fighting  against  Henry  IV. 
He  afterwards  received  a  pardon  for  his  share  in 
the  rebellion,  took  service  under  Sir  Robert  Umfra- 
ville,  andwas  made  constable  ofWarkworth  Castle, 


300  lEarlg  ©j^ronicIcrsJ  of  lEnglanU. 

in  Northumberland.  He  took  part  in  the  Agin- 
court  campaign  of  Henry  V.,  and  was  sent  on  a 
secret  mission  into  Scotland,  which  was  attended 
with  considerable  danger.  He  came  back  maimed, 
and  composed  in  limping  stanzas  a  rhyming 
chronicle  of  English  history,  which  appears  to  have 
been  written  during  the  minority  of  Henry  VI. 
Many  years  afterwards  he  re-wrote  it  for  Richard, 
duke  of  York,  the  father  of  Edward  IV.,  and  just 
after  the  accession  of  that  king,  he  presented  it  to 
Edward  himself.  The  account  he  gives  of  the 
Agincourt  campaign  is  of  some  interest,  but  on  the 
whole  the  work  is  of  little  historical  value  and  still 
less  poetical  merit. 

Of  far  greater  importance  is  the  chronicle  of 
Edward  Hall,  a  citizen  of  London  in  the  reign  of 
Henry  VIII.  The  son  of  a  Shropshire  gentleman, 
he  himself  was  born  in  London,  and  was  sent  for 
his  education  first  to  Eton,  then  to  Cambridge,  and 
afterwards,  some  say,  to  Oxford.  He  then  entered 
at  Gray's  Inn,  was  called  to  the  bar,  became  one  of 
the  common  Serjeants,  and  afterwards  one  of  the 
under-sheriffs  of  the  city.  In  1533,  he  was  ap- 
pointed summer  reader  of  Gray's  Inn,  and  in  1540, 
double  reader  in  Lent,  and  one  of  the  judges  of  the 
sheriff's  court.  He  died  in  1547,  the  year  of 
Henry  VIII.'s  death.  Next  year  his  work  was 
printed  by  Grafton  from  the  manuscript  he  had 
left  behind  him,  with  a  title  which  described  its 
objects  and  scope  very  completely.  It  was  as 
follows  : — 


|i?air0  ®]5ronicle.  301 


"The  union  of  the  two  noble  and  illustre  families  of 
Lancaster  and  York,  being  long  in  continual  dissension  for 
the  crown  of  this  noble  realm  ;  with  all  the  acts  done  in 
both  the  times  of  the  princes,  both  of  the  one  lineage  and 
of  the  other,  beginning  at  the  time  of  King  Henry  the 
Fourth,  the  first  author  of  this  division,  and  so  successively 
proceeding  to  the  reign  of  the  high  and  prudent  prince.  King 
Henry  the  Eighth,  the  indubitate  flower  and  very  heir  of  both 
the  said  lineages." 

From  these  words  we  can  very  well  appreciate 
the  feeling  to  which  the  work  owed  its  origin.  To 
men  of  peaceful  disposition  in  the  reign  of  Henry 
VIIL,  it  was  a  matter  of  profound  satisfaction 
that  their  country  had  at  length  been  emancipated 
from  the  bitterness  of  a  century  of  internal  strife 
and  turmoil.  The  stories  repeated  from  father 
to  son  during  all  that  period  of  the  days  in  which 
they  lived  must  have  had  a  mournful  fascination, — 
days  of  intermittent  rebellion,  of  sudden  revolu- 
lution,  of  government  paralysed  at  times  by 
popular  insurrection.  No  time  was  ever  more  full 
of  stirring  incident,  pleasing  to  recall  when  once 
the  danger  was  past,  but  suggestive  of  anxiety  to 
every  one  so  long  as  the  old  cause  of  trouble 
remained  unabated.  After  so  much  stormy  weather 
men  were  glad  of  the  comparative  dulness  of  the 
reign  of  Henry  VH.,  with  the  promise  of  peace 
implied  in  his  marriage ;  and  when  that  promise 
was  fulfilled  by  the  accession  of  his  son,  he  was 
welcomed  with  a  single-minded  loyalty  such  as 
no  English  sovereign  had  before  experienced,  and 
few  have  experienced  since.     He  was,  besides,  a 


302  leads  ©IbtomcUr^  of  lEnglanti. 

king  of  many  captivating  qualities,  which,  together 
with  the  blessing  of  an  undisputed  succession 
rendered  him  the  idol  of  the  multitude,  and  dis- 
posed even  good  men  to  shut  their  eyes,  as  far  as 
possible,  to  his  vices. 

It  was  certainly  so  with  Edward  Hall.  Lawyers, 
perhaps,  more  than  any  other  class  of  the  com- 
munity, were  anxious  to  preach  the  duty  of  loyal 
obedience  to  a  sovereign  whose  hereditary  right 
was  clear,  and  who,  with  all  his  faults,  invariably 
paid  great  deference  to  the  forms  of  the  constitu- 
tion. Even  if  he  unjustly  put  away  his  wife,  it 
was  by  a  legal  process  ;  and  if  he  abolished  that 
papal  jurisdiction  to  which  men  had  been  accus- 
tomed to  appeal  from  time  immemorial  as  a 
supreme  tribunal  in  spiritual  matters,  in  that,  too, 
he  had  plausible  reasons  for  pretending,  at  least, 
that  the  court  was  not  impartial,  and  that  the 
unbiassed  opinions  of  learned  men  throughout 
Christendom  favoured  a  demand  which  the  Roman 
pontiff  evaded  rather  than  refused.  So  carefully 
did  Henry  consider  the  law  in  all  he  did  that  he 
bound  the  whole  body  of  the  lawyers  of  England 
to  his  side  as  special  pleaders — all  but  the  great 
and  good  Sir  Thomas  More ;  nor  would  even  he 
have  uttered  a  word  in  dissent  if  he  might  have 
been  allowed  to  hold  his  peace.  To  the  rest  sup- 
port of  the  king's  acts  and  authority  in  all  things 
seemed  only  a  religious  and  loyal  duty. 

Hence  arose  the  somewhat  excessive  vehemence 
of  Hall's  Protestantism,  his  far  too  devoted  vindi- 


?^airjj  ©^ronule.  303 


cation  of  Henry  VIII.'s  proceedings,  and  his  painful 
want  of  sympathy  with  martyrs  who  suffered  for 
conscience'  sake.  Nevertheless,  as  a  contemporary 
account  of  events  in  the  reign  of  Henry  VIII.,  his 
chronicle  is  in  every  other  respect  most  admirable. 
In  it  we  often  meet  with  descriptions  most  minute 
and  graphic,  especially  of  pageants  and  processions, 
which  occupied  a  prominent  place  in  the  beginning 
of  the  reign.  Here,  too,  we  have  the  only  original 
account  of  the  rising  of  the  'prentices  against  aliens 
on  Evil  May-day  ;  of  the  conferences  of  Cardinal 
Wolsey  with  the  mayor  and  aldermen  of  London 
to  raise  money  for  the  king,  and  of  many  other 
things  which,  it  is  clear,  are  described  by  an  eye- 
witness. As  to  the  antecedent  history  from  the 
days  of  Henry  IV.,  it  is  carefully  compiled  from 
the  best  available  authorities,  English,  French,  and 
German.  The  style  is  clear  and  vigorous.  The 
narrative  never  halts,  but  is  highly  readable 
throughout.  To  the  modern  reader  there  may 
seem  a  slight  redundance  of  words,  with  Latinisms 
which  have  long  grown  out  of  date ;  and  now  and 
then  the  language  is  a  trifle  pompous,  as  in  the 
opennig  sentences,  in  which  the  author  sets  forth 
the  object  of  his  work  : — 

"What  mischief  hath  insurged  in  realms  by  intestine 
division — what  depopulation  hath  ensued  in  countries  by 
civil  dissension — what  detestable  murder  hath  been  com- 
mitted in  cities  by  separate  factions — and  what  calamity  hath 
ensued  in  famous  regions  by  domestical  discord  and  un- 
natural controversy — Rome  hath  felt,  Italy  can  testify,  France 


304  lEaxlg  0|>romcler${  of  lEnglanD. 

can  bear  witness,  Beame  (Bohemia)  can  tell,  Scotland  may- 
write,  Denmark  can  show,  and  especially  this  noble  reami  of 
England  can  apparently  declare  and  make  demonstration." 

But  we  must  remember  that  the  capacities  of 
the  English  language  as  a  literary  medium  had  as 
yet  been  very  imperfectly  developed.  Writing 
like  this  was  an  imitation  of  classic  oratory  in 
which  the  powers  of  our  vernacular  tongue  were 
put  to  an  early  trial.  It  was  certainly,  in  its  day, 
a  wonderful  example  of  what  might  be  done  in 
English  prose  ;  nor  can  we  refuse  to  accord  it  a 
certain  meed  of  admiration  even  now.  There  has 
certainly  been  much  pompous  English  since  Hall's 
day  without  half  so  much  weight  of  matter. 

It  is  not  unlikely  that  Hall  was  animated  to  the 
task  of  writing  his  chronicle  by  the  work  of  an 
Italian  named  Polydore  Vergil,  then  living  in 
England,  who  had  composed  in  very  polished  Latin 
a  complete  history  of  the  country  from  the  earliest 
times  to  the  death  of  Henry  VII.  Throughout  the 
whole  course  of  Hall's  narrative  occur  passages 
which  are  simply  translated  from  Polydore,  espe- 
cially during  the  reign  of  Henry  VII.,  in  which  the 
one  work  is  little  more  than  an  English  version  of 
the  other.  Polydore's  history  was,  in  fact,  a  work 
that  could  not  but  have  made  a  marked  impression 
upon  the  literary  world  of  that  day.  It  was  the 
first  fruit  of  the  revival  of  letters  in  the  field  of 
English  history  ;  and  the  clearness  of  the  narrative 
and  classic  elegance  of  the  diction  were  alone  suffi- 
cient to  recommend   it  to  every  scholar.     But  it 


^^olgtjore  liTetgfl,  305 


was  also  a  work  of  really  great  research.  Origin- 
ally undertaken  at  the  request  of  Henry  VII.,  the 
author  had  devoted  very  many  years  to  its  compo- 
sition, and  it  was  finally  dedicated  to  Henry  VIII. 
in  1533.  What  was  more,  it  exhibited  English 
affairs  from  quite  a  new  point  of  view — that  of  the 
intelligent  and  clear-judging  foreigner.  To  the 
dismay  of  English  antiquaries,  Polydore  not  only 
reproduced  William  of  Newburgh's  strong  judgment 
as  to  the  absurdity  of  Geoffrey  of  Monmouth's 
history,  and  the  mythical  character  of  Brutus, 
but  backed  it  up  by  other  arguments  of  his  own 
from  the  silence  of  classical  authors  and  the  revela- 
tions of  Gildas  as  to  the  non-existence  in  his  day 
of  any  native  memorials  of  the  past  history  of  the 
island  ;  so  that  the  argument  really  might  have 
seemed  absolute  and  conclusive.  Nor  was  this  the 
only  evidence  he  gave  of  a  vigour  of  thought  and 
independence  of  judgment  to  which  the  reader  of 
chronicles  had  for  some  time  been  unaccustomed  ; 
but  throughout  the  whole  narrative  it  was  apparent 
that  he  had  not  only  studied  all  the  available 
original  evidences,  but  that  he  had  duly  weighed 
their  value,  and  formed  his  own  conclusions. 

His  history,  however,  was  most  valuable  in  the 
latter  portion,  in  which  he  treated  of  the  events  of 
his  own  day,  and  especially  of  the  affairs  of  Eng- 
land since  he  himself  had  known  the  country  and 
lived  in  it.  His  account  of  the  reign  of  Henry 
VII.  is  the  fullest  criginal  narrative  of  the  period 
that  we  possess;    and  so  little  could   the  native 

ENG,  X 


So6  lEatlg  ®Jroniclft»  of  lEnglanU. 

historian  add  to  its  details  that  Hall,  as  we  have 
said,  in  this  portion  of  his  chronicle,  was  content 
merely  to  translate  it  into  English  without  inter- 
polating almost  a  single  word  of  his  own  or  of 
matter  from  any  other  source. 

Polydore  Vergil,  in  fact,  was  the  only  contem- 
porary writer  who  can  be  said  to  have  given  us 
anything  like  an  adequate  history  of  the  reign  of 
Henry  VH.  at  all.  That  such  a  task  should  have 
been  left  to  a  foreigner  is  remarkable  enough  ;  but 
the  fact  is  not  altogether  unaccountable.  Not 
only  had  the  art  of  writing  history  in  any  form 
ceased  to  be  cultivated  as  in  former  days,  but  the 
change  of  times  on  the  accession  of  the  Tudor 
dynasty  must  have  been  a  great  discouragement 
to  those  who  would  otherwise  have  undertaken  it. 
The  latest  of  monastic  histories — the  Chronicle  of 
Croyland — ends  at  the  accession  of  Henry  VH.  with 
some  lame  excuses  for  not  continuing  further  a 
record  of  the  acts  of  living  men ;  but  no  such 
scruples  seemed  to  have  troubled  former  chioniclers 
or  even  the  same  writer  in  the  earlier  part  of  his 
narrative.  There  was  certainly  something  in  the 
new  condition  of  things  that  produced  a  feeling 
of  constraint ;  and  the  dull  intellects  of  native 
writers,  accustomed  only  to  record  external  events, 
which  the  contentions  of  feudal  nobles  and  rival 
dynasties  had  produced  in  unwelcome  abundance, 
could  not  be  expected  to  penetrate  the  veil  of 
subtle  statesmanship,  by  which  a  politic  and  peace- 
ful, but  watchful  and  suspicious  king,  was  putting 


^polgljore  'STet^l,  307 


an  end  to  the  long  reign  of  violence.  It  required 
the  brain  of  an  Italian  to  gather  the  acts  of  such 
a  reign  into  a  regular  narrative,  and  make  their 
real  significance  apparent. 

Polydore  Vergil  was  a  native  of  the  duchy  of 
Urbino.  He  had  been  sent  to  England  by  the 
Pope  as  sub-collector  of  Peter's  Pence  under 
another  Italian,  Cardinal  Hadrian  de  Castello,  in 
or  shortly  before  the  year  1503.  He  was  in  holy 
orders,  and  made  himself  so  acceptable  in  the 
country  to  which  he  was  sent,  that  he  resolved 
to  make  it  his  home.  He  was  appointed  Arch- 
deacon of  Wells,  and  had  other  English  benefices 
also  conferred  on  him.  Besides  English  history 
he  had  written  treatises  on  prodigies,  proverbs, 
inventions,  and  on  moral  and  theological  subjects. 
He  was  a  friend  of  the  great  scholar  Erasmus, 
whom  he  frequently  saw  in  England,  though  their 
friendship  seems  to  have  begun  in  a  little  soreness 
on  his  part,  owing  to  a  nearly  simultaneous  pub- 
lication by  each  of  a  work  on  Proverbs,  in  which 
he  at  first  suspected  plagiary.  But  it  must  be 
owned  that,  except  in  a  literary  point  of  view,  his 
character  does  not  stand  high.  In  the  beginning 
of  Henry  VIII.'s  reign  he  incurred  the  displeasure 
of  Cardinal  Wolsey,  lost  his  office  of  sub-collector, 
and  was  thrown  into  the  Tower  for  some  libellous 
insinuations  that  he  had  written  in  letters  to  Rome. 
From  his  place  of  confinement  he  wrote  to  the 
great  cardinal,  entreating  his  mercy  in  terms  the 
most  abject,  and  blasphemously  besought  an  op- 


3c8  lEarls  ^rjjronlclcrjt  of  lEnglanlJ. 


portunity  of  paying  him  adoration  "as  his  God 
and  Saviour."  At  the  Pope's  intercession  he  was 
liberated ;  but  long  after  Wolsey's  death,  when 
composing  an  additional  book  to  his  history  re- 
lating to  the  reign  of  Henry  VIII.,  he  again 
poured  out  the  venom  he  had  so  long  suppressed, 
and  assailed  the  great  cardinal's  memory  with 
every  possible  slander. 

Richard  Grafton,  after  he  had  printed  HaWs 
Chronicle  in  1548,  composed  an  Abridgement  of  the 
Chronicles  of  England,  which  was  printed  by  Tottyl 
in  1562,  and  republished  two  or  three  times  during 
the  next  few  years.  But  in  this  sort  of  work  he 
had  a  formidable  rival  in  the  famous  antiquary 
Stow,  who,  in  1 565,  brought  out  his  Summary  of 
English  Chro7iicles  ;  and  in  the  spirit  of  rivalry  he 
immediately  issued  an  abridgement  of  his  own 
abridgement,  entitled,  A  Manual  of  the  Chronicles 
of  Englaftd.  This  book  he  dedicated  "to  the 
Master  and  Wardens  of  the  company  of  the  most 
excellent  art  and  science  of  Imprinting,"  hoping, 
as  he  avows,  that  by  their  patronage  it  would 
become  the  standard  work  upon  the  subject,  and 
that  they  would  take  such  order  "that  there  be 
no  brief  abridgment  or  manuals  of  chronicles  here- 
after imprinted  but  only  this  little  book."  Grafton's 
mind  was  not  a  very  generous  one,  and  in  one  edition 
he  sneers  at  the  work  of  his  rival  as  containing 
"  the  memories  of  superstitious  foundations,  fables, 
and  lies  foolishly  Stowed  together."  Nor,  it  must 
be  owned,  did  Stow  bear  these  attacks  with  perfect 


equanimity,  but  retaliated  with  charges  against 
Grafton,  one  of  which — that  of  falsifying  Hardyn^s 
Chro7iicle — appears  to  have  been  founded  in  igno- 
rance that  Hardyng  himself  had  re-written  and 
altered  his  work. 

But  that  which  is  called  Grafton's  Chronicle  did 
not  appear  till  the  year  1569.*  His  motive  for 
compiling  it  is  explained  by  himself,  in  the  dedi- 
cation to  Sir  William  Cecil.  Although  many 
writers  had  produced  works  of  a  kindred  nature, 
no  one  had  yet,  in  his  opinion,  published  "  any  full, 
playne,  and  meere  Englishe  historic."  Some  were 
only  short  annals  called  abridgments,  which  showed 
what  was  done,  but  not  the  manner  of  doing  it. 
Others  mingled  foreign  affairs  with  English,  to  a 
needless  extent.  Others,  especially  by  foreigners, 
had  followed  unjust  and  malicious  reports  in  the 
matter  of  religion.  For  Grafton,  like  Hall,  was  a 
very  zealous  Protestant,  and  did  not  think  that  the 
history  of  his  country  had  been  written  from  a 
sufficiently  Protestant  point  of  view.  He  had  been 
imprisoned  in  Henry  VHI's  time,  for  printing  the 
Bible,  and  he  had  suffered  a  second  imprisonment 
under  Mary.  He  had  been  the  king's  printer  under 
Edward  VI.,  and  lost  his  office  after  that  king's 
death,  for  having  printed  a  proclamation  of  Lady 
Jane  Grey,  as  queen.  His  work,  however,  was  so 
far  from  being  '*  meere  Englishe  historic,"  that  it 
began  in  the  old  style  with  Creation,  and  the  story 

*  The  second  volume,  which  seems  to  have  been  completed  before 
the  first,  bears  date  1568. 


3 10  lEatlg  €r!)ronkto  of  lEnglanD.  * 

of  Adam  and  Eve.  The  reason  for  tliis,  as  he 
informs  the  reader,  was  because  this  island  had  the 
same  time  of  creation  as  all  the  rest  of  the  earth. 
The  first  volume  comes  down  in  seven  ages,  or 
parts,  to  the  time  of  William  the  Conqueror.  And 
in  this  first  volume  even  Brutus  does  not  make  his 
appearance  earlier  than  the  fourth  age,  in  which  he 
is  contemporary  with  the  kings  of  Israel.  The 
first  volume,  however,  is  of  comparatively  slender 
dimensions.  The  second  is  about  eight  times  its 
bulk,  and  its  contents  are,  indeed,  much  more  like 
"  meere  Englishe  historie."  They  are  compiled  from 
various  sources,  but  from  the  accession  of  Henry 
IV.  the  work  is  little  more  than  a  reprint  of  Halls 
Chronicley  almost  word  for  word,  wi^h  a  continuation 
to  the  beginniug  of  the  reign  of  Queen  Elizabeth. 
On  tne  whole,  though  highly  esteemed  in  its  own 
day,  it  is  not  a  work  of  very  great  value  to  the 
modern  student  of  history. 

The  antiquary,  John  Stow,  was  born  in  London, 
in  the  parish  of  St.  Michael,  Cornhill,  in  the  year 
1525.  Ke  was  eleven  years  old  when  Henry  VIII. 
began  to  suppress  the  monasteries  ;  and  there  is 
little  doubt  that  he  was  much  impressed  by  the 
change  which  then  came  over  tne  world.  **  It  was," 
he  says,  speaking  of  the  religious  houses,  in  his 
chronicle,  "a  pitiful  thing  to  hear  the  lamentation 
that  the  people  in  the  country  made  for  them  ;  for 
there  was  great  hospitality  kept  among  them,  and, 
as  it  was  thought,  more  than  ten  thousand  persons, 
masters  and  servants,  had  lost  their  livings  by  the 


Stofo*^  ©j^tottWe.  31 X 


putting  down  of  those  houses  at  that  time."  Never- 
theless, he  is  neither  a  zealous  advocate  of  the 
Reformation,  like  Hall  and  Grafton,  nor  a  believer 
in  the  Pope's  authority,  but  records  everything  that 
took  place  in  a  very  impartial  manner.  He  was 
doubtless  a  studious  antiquary  from  a  very  early 
period.  His  father  was  a  member  of  the  Merchant 
Tailors'  company,  and  he  himself  is  designated  a 
tailor  in  contemporary  documents.  But  about  his 
fortieth  year  he  gave  up  his  business,  and  devoted 
himself  entirely  to  the  study  of  antiquities.  He 
produced  a  summary  of  English  history,  which  was 
published  in  1565,  and  went  through  numerous 
editions.  But  a  much  more  important  work  was 
his  annals,  now  commonly  spoken  of  as  Stows 
Chronicle^  which  first  appeared  in  1580,  and  was 
afterwards  considerably  enlarged.  Two  editions  of 
it  were  published  after  his  death  by  Edmund 
Howes,  the  latter  of  which,  bringing  down  the 
history  to  the  year  of  publication,  163 1,  is  that  most 
commonly  referred  to. 

The  industry  of  Stow  was  indefatigable.  Besides 
the  chronicle,  or  annals,  and  the  summary  above 
mentioned,  he  was  the  author  of  a  very  elaborate 
topographical  work,  entitled  A  Survey  of  the  Cities  of 
London  and  West7ninster.  He  also  left  behind  him  a 
vast  quantity  of  manuscript  notes  and  copies  from 
old  chronicles  in  his  own  hand.  He  died  in  1605, 
two  years  after  the  accession  of  James  L,  and,  it  is 
melancholy  to  record,  in  extreme  poverty.  After 
devoting  a  long  life  to  the  investigation  of  historical 


312  lEarlg  ®|)rottuletjJ  of  lEnglanD. 

truth,  he  found  himself,  in  his  eightieth  year, 
absolutely  reduced  to  beg  his  bread.  He  received 
letters  patent  from  King  James,  acknowledging  the 
great  services  he  had  done  at  his  own  great  cost,  and 
with  neglect  of  ordinary  means  of  maintenance,  in 
the  publication  of  "divers  necessary  books  and 
chronicles ; "  on  which  account  he  was  authorised 
to  solicit  voluntary  contributions  for  his  support, 
the  king  setting  the  example.  Such  was  the 
reward  of  his  long  untiring  zeal,  and  single-minded 
devotion  to  historic  truth  ! 

The  remarkable  industry  shown  by  so  many 
different  workers  at  this  period  in  the  compilation 
of  chronicles,  was  undoubtedly  due  in  great  part  to 
the  dissolution  of  the  monasteries  in  the  reign  of 
Henry  VIII.  The  ancient  storehouses  of  literature 
were  now  destroyed  ;  their  treasures,  intellectual  or 
other,  had  been  carried  off ;  their  ancient  chronicles 
and  richly  illuminated  manuscripts  had  been  confis- 
cated like  all  their  other  goods.  The  records  of  the 
monks  had  thus  become  the  property  of  the  Crown, 
hereafter  to  be  studied  and  utilized  in  the  city,  not 
in  the  country.  And  though  some  could  not  but 
lament  the  disturbance,  the  change  was  eminently 
beneficial  and  suited  to  the  character  of  the  new  era, 
days  when  learning  no  longer  withdrew  itself  to  the 
cloister,  but  frequented  the  courts  of  princes  and 
invigorated  the  life  of  cities. 

But  even  before  the  suppression  of  the  monas- 
teries, a  considerable  amount  of  interest  seems  to 
have  been  felt  regarding  their  historical  manuscripts. 


Henry  VIII.  had  commissioned  his  librarian,  John 
Leland,  who  was  designated  the  king's  antiquary, 
to  travel  up  and  down  the  country  and  draw  up  a 
topographical  account  of  the  whole  kingdom  and 
its  antiquities.  Under  this  commission,  Leland 
was  empowered  to  examine  the  libraries  of  cathe- 
drals, monasteries,  and  colleges,  and  to  report  upon 
their  contents.  He  spent  six  years  in  the  work, 
and  the  information  he  collected  was  very  valuable. 
Besides  a  great  mass  of  curious  notes  upon  the 
different  localities,  he  described  particularly  all  the 
more  remarkable  manuscripts  he  met  with  in  the 
monasteries.  His  collections,  however,  remained 
unprinted  till  the  beginning  of  the  eighteenth  cen- 
tury, when  some  of  them  were  edited  by  the  anti- 
quary, Thomas  Hearne.  They  had,  in  fact,  rather 
an  unfortunate  history.  Edward  VI.  committed 
them  to  the  keeping  of  Sir  John  Cheke,  who  find- 
ing himself  obliged  to  leave  the  country  in  Mary's 
reign,  gave  some  volumes  to  Humphrey  Purefoy 
which  are  now  in  the  Bodleian  library.  The  rest 
came  to  the  hands  of  Lord  Paget  and  Sir  William 
Cecil,  secretaries  of  state  ;  but  whether  in  their 
keeping  or  in  Cheke's  they  were  so  sadly  neglected 
as  even  for  some  time  to  be  exposed  to  the 
weather. 

Early  in  the  reign  of  Elizabeth,  Reginald  Wolfe, 
the  queen's  printer,  by  birth  a  German,  had  planned 
the  publication  of  a  very  magnificent  work,  which 
was  to  contain  a  universal  cosmography,  with  par- 
ticular histories  of  every  known  nation.     He  spent 


314  lEarlg  &f)xonk\txii  of  lEnglanD. 

five-and-twenty  years  in  preparing  for  this  grand 
project,  but  died  before  he  could  give  it  to  the 
world.  Raphael  Holinshed  whom  he  had  engaged 
to  collect  the  materials  for  it,  was  then  applied  to 
by  his  executors  to  see  the  work  through  the  press. 
The  bulk  of  it,  however,  alarmed  those  who  were 
to  bear  the  expense  of  publication,  and  it  was 
resolved  to  limit  the  design  in  the  first  instance  to 
the  histories  of  England,  Scotland,  and  Ireland 
with  a  general  description  of  each  country  prefixed. 
Accordingly,  in  the  year  1577,  there  appeared  in 
two  thick  folio  volumes,  the  first  edition  of  the  work 
called  Holinshed's  Chrotiicie,  containing  the  three 
histories  and  descriptions  just  mentioned,  illustrated 
by  numerous  spirited  woodcuts.  This  was  three 
years  before  Stow's  Chronicle  was  published.  But 
the  first  edition  of  Holinshed's  work  is  now  very 
rare,  and  the  second  edition  is  that  which  is 
commonly  referred  to.  This  was  published  ten 
years  later  without  woodcuts  and  with  some  emis- 
sions besides,  but  with  important  additions  con- 
tributed by  Stow  and  several  others,  who  were 
among  the  best  antiquarians  of  the  time. 

Little  is  known  of  Raphael  Holinshed,  the 
principal  author  of  this  work,  except  that  he  be- 
longed to  a  Cheshire  family,  and  that,  according 
to  Anthony  k  Wood,  he  was  educated  at  one  of 
the  universities,  and  was  a  minister  of  God's  word. 
He  is  also  believed  to  have  been,  in  later  life, 
steward  to  Thomas  Burdet,  of  Bromcote,  in  War- 
v/ickshire,  an  employment  quite  compatible  with 


?&oItn^f>et)*<s  ©j^tomcle.  315 

that  of  a  clergyman  in  those  days,  though  the 
point  seems  to  have  raised  a  difficulty  with  some 
critics.  He  died  at  Bromcote  about  three  or  four 
years  after  the  first  publication  of  his  chronicle, 
the  second  edition  of  which  was  issued  after  his 
death. 

His  chief  assistant  in  the  work  was  William 
Harrison,  a  native  of  London,  who  received  his 
education  first  at  Westminster  School,  under  the 
celebrated  divine,  Alexander  Nowell,  and  after- 
wards at  Oxford  and  Cambridge.  He  was  chaplain 
to  William  Brooke,  Lord  Cobham,  warden  of  the 
Cinque  Ports,  who  presented  him  to  two  livings 
in  Essex,  and  to  whom  he  dedicated  his  own  part 
of  Holinshed's  publication,  the  Description  of 
Britain  and  of  England  prefixed  to  the  whole. 
This  is  a  very  elaborate  account  of  its  topography, 
inhabitants,  languages,  manners,  laws,  and  insti- 
tutions, which,  as  he  informs  us,  he  composed 
at  the  request  of  his  friends  during  one  Trinity 
term  when  he  was  compelled  to  stay  in  London. 
The  conditions  under  which  he  achieved  the  task 
would  certainly  appear  to  have  been  very  unpro- 
pitious ;  for,  as  he  tells  us,  he  was  then  parted 
from  his  books  by  a  distance  of  forty  miles,  and 
so  Utile  had  he  travelled  even  in  his  own  countr}% 
except  in  visits  to  the  universities  or  to  Lord 
Cobham,  in  Kent,  he  had  never,  till  recently,  gone 
a  forty  miles'  journey  in  his  life.  Nevertheless, 
by  careful  study  of  the  valuable  manuscripts  of 
Leland  (though  they  had  been  sadly  injured  by 


3*1 6  Icarlg  (tf}xomt\tx^  of  lEnglanD. 

wet  and  weather,  and  several  of  the  volumes  were 
missing),  and  by  information  derived  from  letters 
and  from  personal  conversation  with  friends,  he 
succeeded  in  producing  a  treatise  altogether  unique 
in  its  day,  and  certainly  of  no  small  interest  to 
students  of  antiquity  in  later  times. 

John  Hooker,  othenvise  called  Vowell,  of  Exeter, 
uncle  of  "the  Judicious  Hooker,"  contributed  the 
history  of  the  conquest  of  Ireland  translated  from 
Giraldus  Cambrensis,  and  some  further  articles 
relating  to  the  affairs  of  that  country.  Holinshed 
himself,  however,  wrote  the  continuation  of  Irish 
history  from  where  Giraldus  left  off,  as  far  as  the 
year  1509,  to  which,  in  the  second  edition,  a 
further  continuation  to  1586  was  added  by  Richard 
Stanihurst,  a  native  of  Dubh'n,  who  afterwards 
wrote  a  Latin  history  of  the  country,  and  a  trans- 
lation of  Virgil's  ^neid  into  English  hexameters. 

In  the  second  edition  also,  the  history  of  Scot- 
land, which  Holinshed  had  brought  down  to  1571, 
was  continued  by  Francis  Botevile,  alias  Thin, 
Lancaster  herald,  a  man  of  great  learning  and 
ability ;  and  a  number  of  valuable  notes  throughout 
the  whole  work  were  contributed  by  Abraham 
Fleming,  rector  of  St.  Pancras,  Soper  Lane,  in  the 
city  of  London. 

In  the  second  edition  of  Holinsked's  Chronicle 
several  sheets  were  cancelled  by  order  of  the  Pri^/y 
Council,  as  containing  objectionable  matter  in  re- 
ference to  certain  delicate  subjects  in  the  reign  of 
queen  Elizabeth.      But  these   castrations  were  in 


^|)a]fec^p«aw'^  l^gtodc^.  317 

the  last  century  collected  and  published  by  them- 
selves in  black  letter,  similar  to  the  original  edition 
with  which  they  are  now  often  bound  up. 

It  was  from  the  pages  of  Holinshed,  and  of  his 
predecessor  Hall,  that  Shakespeare  derived  the 
materials  of  his  dramatized  histories.  And  it  may 
be  remarked  that,  besides  the  play  of  King  John, 
which  stands  by  itself,  those  dramas  form  a  regular 
sequence,  covering  exactly  the  same  period  as 
HaWs  Chronicle — from  Richard  II.  to  Henry  VIII. 
— ^broken  only  by  the  dark  mysterious  interval  of 
Henry  VII.'s  reign,  which  afforded  no  good  sub- 
ject for  representation  on  the  stage.  With  this 
exception  the  whole  period  was  full  of  action,  and 
the  wonderful  pathos  of  its  great  catastrophes — 
a  pathos  which  deeply  touched  the  nation's  heart, 
and  is  strongly  marked  in  the  narrative  of  Hall — 
was  exemplified  as  it  could  have  been  by  no  other 
pen.  Poets,  indeed,  had  been  labouring  at  the 
theme,  even  in  the  days  of  Queen  Mary,  and  the 
Mirror  for  Magistrates^  which  first  saw  the  light 
in  the  very  beginning  of  Elizabeth's  reign,  bore 
testimony  by  its  popularity  to  the  depth  and 
universality  of  the  sentiment.  Jt  was  the  work  of 
several  hands,  framed  on  the  model  of  Lydgate's 
Falls  of  Prifices ;  and  as  edition  after  edition 
appeared  throughout  the  whole  reign  of  Elizabeth, 
the  public  seemed  never  tired  of  reading  mono- 
logues put  into  the  mouths  of  unfortunate  great 
men  who  had  come  to  a  tragic  end  in  the  midst  of 
their  prosperity.     But  though  the  poetry  was  far 


3i8  lEarlg  Cr^ron(cUr${  of  lEnglant). 

from  being  contemptible  (Sackville,  Lord  Buck> 
hurst  contributed  some  of  his  most  polished  verses), 
and  though  the  subjects  were  taken  from  English 
history  since  the  days  of  Richard  II.,  such  a  mode 
of  treatment  could  not  compare  for  a  moment  with 
dramatic  representations  of  the  same  facts  by  the 
hand  of  the  great  master.  It  is  from  the  dramas 
of  Shakespeare  that  most  of  us  derive,  even  at  this 
day,  our  chief  impressions  of  English  history  ;  and 
those  dramas  were  undoubtedly  composed  from  a 
very  careful  study  of  the  writings  of  Hall  and 
Holinshed. 

The  Tudor  era,  with  all  its  despotism,  was  on 
the  whole  a  period  of  national  prosperity  and 
happiness.  It  contained,  certainly,  enough  of  the 
evils  of  past  times — enough  of  cruelty,  oppression, 
and  wrong-doing,  to  impress  men  with  awe  and 
with  lively  sympathy  for  the  victims  of  state 
tyranny.  But,  at  least,  the  wrong-doing  was  no 
longer  capricious ;  feudalism  was  at  an  end ;  the 
country,  from  one  extremity  to  the  other,  was 
under  a  single  rule  ind  government,  no  longer 
liable  to  be  disturbed  by  the  ascendancy  of  some 
new  faction  among  a  turbulent  nobility.  The  im- 
provement was  so  great  that  men  could  look  back 
upon  the  past  with  a  sense  of  devout  thankfulness  ; 
they  could  collect  its  annals,  moralize  upon  them, 
dramatize  them.  And  in  the  altered  conditions 
of  literature,  what  they  had  to  say  was  all  the 
more  significant  of  popular  feeling.  For  though 
the  monasteries  were  gone — those  secure  retreats 


literature  ©entraUjeti.  319 

in  which  the  deeds  of  despotic  kings  had  once 
been  freely  canvassed,  both  in  speech  and  writing 
— their  extinction  only  contributed  still  more  to 
that  unity  of  national  life  and  sentiment  which  the 
extinction  of  feudalism  had  done  so  much  to  effect. 
The  records  of  the  monks  were  now  centralized 
in  the  city  ;  the  facts  of  history  were  discussed  in 
a  larger  atmosphere.  Local  traditions  and  recorded 
incidents,  known  hitherto  within  narrower  limits, 
had  become  the  talk  of  men  in  streets  and  taverns. 
It  was  in  London  alone  that  men  could  gather  all 
the  knowledge  that  was  to  be  obtained  about  the 
past  It  was  there  that  the  contrast  between  new 
and  old  times  was  best  understood,  and  the  value 
of  a  stable  government  best  appreciated.  It  was 
there,  too,  that  literature  was  now  domiciled ;  the 
printing  press  had  made  ic  dependent  on  commerce 
in  a  way  it  had  never  been  before.  And  it  was 
in  the  earliest  period  of  its  new  career — in  the 
days  of  the  Tudors  and  the  Stuarts — that  litera- 
ture produced  the  most  elaborate  of  English 
histories,  and  the  most  historically-minded  of 
English  poets. 


INDEX. 


A. 

Adam  de  Marisco,  228,  229. 

Adamnan,  abbot  of  lona,  21. 

Aetius  the  Consul,  his  assistance  invoked  by  the  Britons  against  the 

Picts  and  Scots,  5. 
Ailred  of  Rievaulx,  193. 
Albertus  Magnus,  222. 
Alcuin,  192. 

Alexander  of  Hales,  225,  229. 
Alfred,  King,  Asser's  Life  of,  30-47. 
Ambrosius  Aurelianus,  the  Roman  general,  aids  the  Britons  against 

the  Saxons,  8. 
Anglo-Saxon,  or  Saxon,  Chronicle.     See  Saxon  Chronicle. 
Anselm,  Eadmer's  account  of  him,  67-73. 
Antiquis  Legibus,  Liber  de,  284. 
Aquinas,  Thomas,  222. 

Arthur,  King,  stories  of,  in  Geoffrey  of  Monmouth,  158. 
Asser,  Bishop,  facts  relating  to,  30,  31.     His  Life  of  Alfred,  30-47  ; 

incorporated  in  Florence  of  Worcester's    Chronicle,    39,    64. 

Annals  attributed  to  Asser,  34,  37,  38. 
Augustine,  St.,  his  mission  to  England,  10-17. 
Augustinian  Canons,  118. 
Augustinian  Friars,  220. 
Austin  Canons.     See  Augustinian. 

ENG.  ¥ 


322  UnDci. 

B. 

Bacon,  Roger,  229. 

Battle  Abbey,  founded  by  William  the  Conqueror,  51,  53.    Chronicle 

of,  53-57. 
Bede,  the  Venerable.     His  Ecclesiastical  History y   10-22,  28.     His 

other  works,  22,  23.     Cuthbert's  account  of  his  death,  24-27. 

Miracles  related  by  him,  28,  29. 
Benedict  of  Peterborough,  194- 
Bernard,  St.,  11 3-1 15. 
Black  Friars,  the,  202. 
Blaneforde,  Henry  de,  267. 
Bonaventura,  225,  226. 

Botevile,  or  Thin,  Francis,  his  contribution  to  Holinshed,  316. 
Brakeland,  Joceline  of,  his  Chronicle^  142-154. 
Bristol  chronicle,  a  (the  Mayor  of  Bristol's  /Calendar),  291. 
Britain,  Gildas  on  the  Destruction  of,  2-9. 
Britons,  Groans  of  the,  6. 
Brut/!,  Chronicles  of  the,  164,  283. 
Bury  St.  Edmund's  (or  St.  Edmimdsbury),  monastery  of.     Account 

of  the  rule  of  Abbot  Sampson  there,  142-154. 

C. 

Cade's  insurrection  described  by  Gregory,  288-290. 

Csedmon,  the  poet,  21. 

Carmelite  Friars,  220. 

Carthusian  Order,  112,  113. 

Caxton,  William,  283. 

Chester,  St.  Werburgh's,  Higden,  a  monk  of,  274. 

Cistercian  Order,  113-1:8. 

Cluniac  Order,  112. 

Coventry,  monks  replaced  by  secular  canons  at,  139-141. 

Croyland,  Chronicle  of ,  t.'JT^. 

Crusade,  the  first,  described  by  William  of  Malmesbury,  %'^,  84. 

Cuthbert's  account  of  the  death  of  Bede,  24-27. 

D. 
Devizes,  Richard  of,  his  Chronicle,  1 19-14 1. 


InUex,  323 

Dominic,  St,,  founds  the  Dominican  Order,  201-204. 

Duns  Scotus,  229,  230. 

Dunstan,  St.,  reforms  the  monastic  rule  in  the  south  of  England, 

57. 
Durham,  Simeon  of,  192. 


Eadmer's  history  of  his  own  time,  65-75. 

Eccleston's  history  of  the  arrival  of  the  Franciscans  in  England, 

211-219. 
Edwin,  king  of  Northumbria,  his  conversion  to  Christianity,  17-20. 
E<lwin  I.,  Trivet's  description  of,  265-267. 

Ethelbert,  king  of  Kent,  receives  St.  Augustine  in  England,  12-14. 
Ethelstan,  a  priest  invited  to  King  Alfred's  court,  42, 
Eusebius,  5. 

F. 

Fabyan,  Robert,  his  Chronicle^  292-294. 
Fleming,  Abraham,  his  contributions  to  Holinshed,  316. 
Florence  of  Worcester,  63. 

Francis,    St.,  founds  the  Franciscan   Order  of  Friars,    204-209. 
Eccleston's  history  of  their  arrival  in  England,  2 1 1-2 19. 


Geoffrey  of  Monmouth.     See  Monmouth,  Geoffrey  of. 

Gildas,  doubts  as  to  his  age  and  nationality,  2.     His  book  on  the 

Destruction  of  Britain,  2-  9. 
Giraldus    Cambrensis,    168-171.     His    birthplace,    171-173.     His 

family,  173  ;  life  and  works  of,  1 74-191. 
Gloucester,  Robert  Earl  of,  son  of  Henry  I.,  95 ;  patron  of  William 

of  Malmesbury,  87,  156;  and  of  Geoffrey  of  Monmouth,  156- 

157. 
Grafton,    Richard,    his    minor    historical    works,    308,    309 ;    his 

Chronule^  309,  310. 
Gregory,  William,  his  Chronicle,  288- -291. 
Gregory,    St.,    Pope,    sends    St.    Augustine    mto    England,    10. 

Writes  letters  in  his  behalf,  il,  12.     Story  of  his  seeing  British 

slaves  at  Rome,  15,  16. 


32 1  InDei. 

Grey  Friars,  the,  211. 

Grimbald,  a  monk  invited  by  Alfred  from  Gaul,  42. 

Grosseteste,  Bishop,  217. 

H. 

Hales,  Alexander  of,  225,  229. 

Hall's  Chronicle^  299-304. 

Hardyn^s  Chronicle^  299,  300. 

Harrison,  William,  his  Description  of  Britain^  in  Holinshed,  315. 

Hastings,  battle  of,  its  results  described  by  William  of  Malmesbury, 

81-83. 
Hemingburgh,  Walter,  History  of,  195,  196. 
Henry  I.  (Beauclerc),  described  by  William  of  Malmesbury,  85,  86. 

His  encouragement  of  learning,  155. 
Henry  II.,  incident  on  his  landing  at  St  David's,  179;  personal 

description  of,  by  Giraldus,  181-184. 
Hexham,  John  of,  193. 
Hexham,  Richard  of,  193. 
Higden,  Ralph,  his  Polychronicon^  274-279. 
Hilda,  St.,  founds  the  Abbey  of  Whitby,  20,  21,  57. 
Holinshed,  Raphael,  his  Chronicle^  314-317. 
Holyroody  Chronicle  ofy  193. 

Hooker  (or  Vowell),  John,  his  contributions  to  Holinshed,  316. 
Hoveden,  Roger  of,  his  History ^  194. 
Huntingdon,  Henry  of,  98-i(X);  personal  account  of,  101-103;  his 

History  of  the  English^  104,  105. 

J. 

Jews  massacred  at  the  coronation  of  Richard  I.,    122 ;  supposed 

crucifixion  of  children  by,  124. 
John,  Prince,  afterwards  King,  176,  184 
John  of  Hexham,  193. 

K. 

Kilwardby,  Robert, 

Knights  Templars  and  Knights  of  St.  John,  118. 


Intici.  325 


Lanercostf  Chronicle  of,  196-198. 

Leland,  John,  his  collections,  313. 

Liber  de  Antiquis  Legibus,  284. 

Liher  Albtis  of  the  City  of  London,  287. 

Lombard,  Peter,  221. 

London,  incorporation  of  the  city,  139.     Chronicles  of,  285-291. 

Longchamp,  William  de,  bishop  of  Ely,  described  by  Richard  of 

Devizes,  126. 
Lully,  Raymond,  226,227. 

M. 

Malmesbury,  William  of,  account  of,  76 ;  character  as  an  historian, 
77,  78  J  his  Gesta  Regum,  79-86 ;  his  Historia  Novella,  87,  88. 

Margaret  of  Anjou,  her  adventures  described  by  Gregory,  290-291. 

Marianus  Scotus,  64. 

Matthew  Paris,  62,  63,  236-239,  243-246  ;  his  History^  247-257. 

Maud,  the  Empress,  96  ;  her  escape  from  Oxford  described,  97,  98. 

Melrose,  Chronicle  of ,  195, 

Minorite  Friars,  210,  2  ii. 

Mirror  for  Magistrates,  the,  317. 

Monasteries,  decline  of  discipline  in,  under  the  Saxons,  57. 
Labours  of  the  monks,  agricultural,  58,  59 ;  literary,  59-61. 
Office  of  historiographer  in  monasteries,  62,  63.  Reforms  of 
St.  Dunstan  and  Lanfranc,  1 10.  New  monastic  orders,  no,  li  i. 
The  Cluniacs,  112;  Carthusians,  112,113  J  Cistercians,  113-118. 

Monmouth,  Geoffrey  of,  his  History  of  the  Kings  of  Britain,  156- 
168. 

Mount  Badon,  8. 

N. 

Newburgh,  William  of,  denounces  the  fictions  of  Geoffrey  of  Mon- 
mouth, 167;  \i\%  History,  193,194. 

Nonant,  Hugh  de,  bishop  of  Coventry,  expels  the  monks  and  puts 
secular  canons  in  their  place,  139-141. 

Northern  historians,  191-198. 


326  IhitJci. 

o. 

Occam,  William,  230-232,  280. 
Ordericus  Vitalis,  106-108. 

Oswy,  king  of  Northumbria,  being  victorious  in  battle,  makes  his 
daughter  a  nun,  20. 

P. 

Paris,  Matthew,  62,  63,  236-239,  243-246 ;  his  History ^  247-257. 
Paulinus,  bishop  of  York,  converts  Edwin,  king  of  Northumbria,  to 

Christianity,  17,  19  ;  his  missionary  efforts  north  and  south  ot 

Humber,  20. 
Peterborough,  Benedict  of,  194. 
Picts  and  Scots  oppress  the  Britons,  5. 
Plegmund,  invited  to  King  Alfred's  court,  42. 
PolychronicoHy  Higden's,  274-279. 
Polydore,  Vergil.     See  Vergil,  P. 
Preaching  Friars,  the,  202. 
Premonstratensian  Canons,  118. 
Pusac,  or  Pudsey,  Hugh  de,  bishop  of  Durham,  story  of,  in  Richard 

of  Devizes,  127,  128. 


Richard  I.,  massacre  of  the  Jews  at  his  coronation,  122.  His 
expedition  to  the  Holy  Land,  125,  128-137,  141. 

Richard  III..,  More's  History  of,  294-299. 

Richard  of  Devizes,  Chronicle  oi,  11 9-14 1. 

Richard  of  Hexham,  193. 

Rishanger,  William,  Chronicles  of,  257-264. 

Robert  of  Normandy,  son  of  William  the  Conqueror,  described  by 
William  of  Malmesbury,  85  ;  by  Ordericus  Vitalis,  106,  107. 

Robert  Earl  of  Gloucester.     See  Gloucester,  Robert  Earl  of. 

Roger  of  Wendover,  his  Flowers  of  History ^  239-243. 

S. 

St  Alban's,  historical  school  of,  235-273 ;  battle  of,  273. 
St.  Edmundsbury.     See  Bury  St.  Edmunds. 


)InUex»  327 

St  Jerome,  5. 

Sf.  Neot,  Life  of,  37,  39. 

Sampson,  abbot  of  Bury  St.  Edmund's,  his  rule  over  the  monastery, 
142,  143  ;  personal  description  of,  143-145  ;  protects  his  juris- 
diction from  interference  by  the  archbishop,  146, 147  ;  his  journey 
to  Rome  before  he  was  abbot,  147  ;  establishes  schools  and 
hospitals,  etc.,  149;  refuses  a  request  of  King  Richard,  150; 
maintains  the  rights  of  his  monastery  against  the  city  of 
London,  151,  152  ;  and  against  the  monks  of  Ely,  153,  154- 

Saxotty  or  Anglo-Saxon,  Chronicle,  the,  32,  34,  36,  49-53»  64,  65. 

Scots  and  Picts  oppress  the  Britons,  5. 

Shakespeare's  Historical  Plays,  317,  318. 

Simeon  of  Durham,  192. 

Standard,  battle  of  the,  described  by  Henry  of  Huntingdon,  104 ; 
by  Richard  of  Hexham,  193  ;  by  Ailred  of  Rievaulx,  ib. 

Stanihurst,  Richard,  his  contributions  to  Holinshed,  316. 

Stephen,  King,  History  of,  by  William  of  Malmesbury,  87  ;  by  an 
anonymous  writer,  88-98 ;  by  Henry  of  Huntingdon,  98,  104, 
105. 

Stow,  John,  308,  310 ;  his  Chronicle,  and  other  works,  311,  312. 

Stubbs,  Dr.  Thomas,  his  History  of  the  Archbishops  of  Yorkf 
224,  225. 

Sulpicius  Severus,  Ecclesiastical  History  of,  5. 


Thin,  Francis.     See  Botevile. 

Thomas  Aquinas,  222. 

Trevisa,  John,  translator  of  Higden's  Polychronicon,  279-282. 

Trivet,  Nicholas,  his  Annals,  223,  224,  265-267. 

Trokelowe,  John  de,  267. 

Tyler,  Wat,  his  rebellion,  270-272. 


Vergil,  Polydore,  his  History  of  England,  304-308. 
Vowell,  John,     See  Hooker. 


328  linDa. 

W. 

Walsingham,  Thomas,  his  English  History^  267-272 ;  his  Ypodigma 

Neustrizy  268. 
Walter  Hemingburgh,  his  History,  195,  196. 

Werefrith,  bishop  of  Worcester,  invited  to  King  Alfred's  court,  42. 
Werewulf,  a  priest,  invited  to  King  Alfred's  court,  42. 
Whethanastede,  John,  Abbot  of  St.  Alban's,  his  Register,  273. 
Whitby  Abbey  founded  by  St.  Hilda,  20,  21,  57  ;  council  held  at, 

determines  the  rule  of  Easter  in  Britain,  21. 
William   the  Conqueror,  description  of,   in  the  Saxon  Chronicle, 

51-53. 
William    II.,   his  relations  with  Anselm  described    by  Eadmer, 

67-73. 
William  of  Malmesbury.     See  Malmesbury,  William  of. 
William  of  Newburgh.     See  Newburgh,  William  of. 
Wolfe,  Reginald,  313. 
Worcester,  Florence  of,  63. 
WyclifTe,  231,  270 ;  favour  shown  to  him  at  Oxford,  269. 


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